Redemption
by KeyOfDancingMelodies
Summary: After a frozen and traumatic night brings them together, snobby rich brat Arlene and selfless poor street rat Dyme are forced to forget their quarrel and cling to each other... or forfeit their lives.  NOT Larxene x Demyx   Some minor Demyx x OC
1. Chapter 1

Alternative Universe. Based on a roleplay, thus this is a collaboration.

Fleeting Demyx x OC. NOT LARMYX.

* * *

><p>The alleyway was dark, cold, and damp, just like the sky above. Greyish snow floated down, piling in heaps and dunes over the slums of this city, chilling a fifteen-year old Dyme to the bone. He shivered, only in a t-shirt and jeans: he could not afford a jacket, nor natural insulation. Any money he got went instantly to his brother, who was safe for now... He sneezed, making a rather loud sound in comparison to the quiet of the night.<p>

Hardly seconds after he had sneezed, the night answered back. There appeared to be a loud disagreement breaking out down the street, with scrabbling and a heated exchange of words followed by a door slamming, then being pounded upon to a small, furious scream. Dyme jumped at the sudden sounds, getting anxiously to his feet. It sounded like another methhead was being chucked out of their home. Hesitantly, he slid down the alleyway to peer out nervously at the scene.

It was directly outside one of the up-market city getaway apartments; the classy kind that seemed to be in competition with every other building to be taller, more glamorous and attract the most desirable citizens. A bellhop would usually be at the door, letting people in and out and blandly wishing them a good day, but now by the door a shivering girl in nightwear knelt in the snow, bruised and resting her head on the door. She was shouting something about running away and the typical 'then you'll be sorry!', but she wasn't really fooling anyone: she was scared, cold and already regretting not complying entirely with her father's request that she should accept she was a whore and a liar and a godless, worthless mistake.

Going against his better judgement, Dyme crept silently up to her. "E-excuse me," he whispered. "Are you all right...?"

Flinching at once at his voice, the girl glared and barked, "touch me and I'll scream. I'll scream until your ears bleed, don't think I won't. I have no money, no possessions, and my father won't pay ransom so _back_. _Off_."

"I don't want any of that." Dyme's voice was thin and frail-sounding; weak from illness, his body was the same. "You seemed upset."

"It's none of your business."

"...Okay." He smiled tiredly at her. "You're right. I shouldn't have pried..." Movement caught his eye. He glanced away and froze, looking over his shoulder to see a group of young men all dressed in black slowly approaching. His face turned paler than it already was. This wasn't good at all. For either of them. "You should get out of here."

It appeared the girl had noticed them too, and looked ready to tell them where they could stick their help too. However, she seemed to get the feeling they weren't here for that. She didn't trust Dyme at all, but she didn't trust the newcomers either. Nervously she began jabbing the intercom that led to her family's luxury suite rooms and called for them to stop playing now and let her back in. There was no reply, even when she apologised and begged. Dyme bit his lip, looking nervously back over at the gang. "...follow me." He seized her arm and began to dart off, just wanting to get her away from them.

"What are you doing? Leggo!" She couldn't do much but let him drag her along though, wincing where he held her on a bruise.

"Shh! We've got to find a place to hide!" Dyme hissed, sharply turning down an alleyway hidden by the dark.

Strangely enough, she wasn't happy about being taken down a dark alleyway in nothing but her nightie by a dirty-looking stranger, regardless or not whether those black-garbed people were worse or not. She tugged against him but slipped on some ice and ended up being pretty much dragged by him, wailing. He instantly stopped to help her up, nervously looking behind him. He couldn't see or hear that gang - cult, really - but he still felt on edge.

She batted at him in a flustered way and growled, "stop touching me. Who are you? Who are _they_? And take me _right_ back to my parents _right now_."

Dyme sighed and took his hands off of her, though he anxiously kept looking over his shoulder. "I'm a street rat, they're a nasty sort, and I can't take you back there yet. It's too dangerous right now. Do you know what they _do_ to girls like you?"

"Well I'm the daughter of the boss of one of most influential business companies this side of the border: they wouldn't _dare_ doing anything to me." There was a certain ignorant snootiness to her voice that made it clear she had no idea at all the extent of trouble one can get into. Dyme stared at her in sheer disbelief. "That makes you a target. They'll hold you for ransom and do worse and worse things to you for each second it takes to pay it. Which is why we _cannot_ go back until we _know_ it's safe. Do you understand me?"

"... w...what?" She went pale and glanced nervously to where they'd run from. Apparently that idea hadn't exactly occurred to her.

Dyme looked exasperated. "They've got nothing, just like me, but unlike me, they'll do _anything_ to get it. And they'll want it to be fun for them." He looked over his shoulder sharply when he thought he heard footsteps. "You see, they're not...right in the head..."

"D-don't the cops do anything!"

Dyme quietly began to laugh. "Have you been here long, rich girl?"

At that she scowled. "Don't mock me, you dirty, insignificant air-thief."

His laughter broke off and a darkened look entered his eyes. "The system is flawed here. And just what do you mean by 'air-thief'?"

"You're taking air that human beings could be using."

Dyme gave a snort, though he felt no mirth. "Charming, aren't you?"

"I don't have to listen to this..." The girl got up and stormed down the alley, calling, "I'm going to find the police station and get treated with some respect by people who know what a bath is!"

"What are you doing?" Dyme cried, eyes going wide. "Look, I'm sorry! I was out of line! Don't go out there!"

"I am _not_ going to spend all night with you in an alleyway!" she snapped over her shoulder at him... and tripping over a dustbin, making a huge clang and crash as she and it toppled into the snow.

Dyme gasped as the frighteningly-nearby gang turned to look at them with soulless, greedy eyes. "Get out of here!" Dyme shouted, eyes wide in panic. She clutched her knee but didn't need telling twice and stumbled in a limping run through the snow she bolted. "Keep going!" Dyme yelled after her before running up to the gang, trying to distract them.

Gunfire rang out. At the sound, the girl squealed and put her arms over her head, expecting pain to hit her at any second. She made it out of the alley and onto a quiet street, but left the alley at such speed she slipped on ice as she tried to turn a corner and hit the floor.

The gunfire was soon silenced, replaced by thuds and snaps too distant to hear. At long last, any sounds of a scuffle had faded into nothingness and a badly-beaten Dyme limped into the quiet street, clutching a bleeding arm, face covered in bruises and gashes. The girl had been cowering between two cars further down the street, and trembled audibly upon hearing someone getting closer. She assumed she would be next, and after about four seconds of petrified calm she let out a shriek for help. Dyme looked over sharply at the cars, limping a little closer. "Rich girl?" he called out hesitantly.

Shutting up, slowly a pale faced blond peered out from between the cars. And went paler upon seeing him.

Dyme sighed in relief. "Are you okay?"

"W...w-why are you bleeding...?"

"I got roughed up a little." Dyme shrugged, wincing when he jostled his injured arm. "But are you okay?"

Apparently despite the bruises on her arms, ankles and neck, she had never seen someone bleeding before. Boggling at his arm, she raised a hand and could only wheeze, "... that's... that's fake blood, right?"

"Um...no?" Dyme looked a little confused.

"They did that! Oh God, what if they do that to me!"

"Yes, they did that. They have guns. And that's why I wanted you to get out of there; so that they wouldn't do that to you."

"... oh God..."

"Look, it may not be safe here...we should keep moving..."

This was probably the first time she actually realised her life was in danger here. Shaking, she raised herself onto her feet and nodded numbly, actually scared. "There's got to be a police car somewhere, they can't just not listen it's their job!"

Dyme's eyes saddened. "I told you, they're flawed here...they won't help us." He looked down. "It's a bad place with bad people..."

"... but... but I'm important! They _have_ to do as I say!"

Dyme's eyes only became sadder. "They don't _care._ They don't care about anyone or anything except themselves. They will let people die because they don't feel like saving them." His voice trembled slightly.

"B-but...!" She wheezed. That didn't make sense to her. _Everyone_ listened to her and did as she said.

"It's different from your home: much different."

"... I-i'm only here because Dad had a business meeting..."

Dyme frowned; what kind of father would kick his daughter onto the streets for a business meeting? "...we should get out of here; it's cold."

Having had a bit of a shock, she just nodded and hugged herself. "... I've... never left the apartment... I don't know where I am..."

_That explains it._ "I do, and I can find our way to somewhere safer...follow me." He began to walk off.

She shivered hard and looked around nervously. It appeared she had no choice but to follow, and hoping he wasn't about to go batshit insane on her, kept close. "What happened to those guys earlier?"

"They ran off elsewhere. They got bored with me, I guess. We won't run into them again. And if we do, they won't get to you." Dyme turned a corner, sliding down another near-invisible alleyway.

"... why are you helping me?"

"Because you needed it. You still need it."

"Y-you can barely help yourself, boy..."

He shrugged. "I'm not really worth helping. Here we are." He stopped a distance away from a ramshackle, gloomy-looking house. "It... _should_ be safe..."

"... we're going in _there_?"

Dyme grimaced. "It'll keep out some of the cold."

"Is it safe?"

Dyme bit his lip. "Y...yes. It should be." A new bit of confidence entered his voice. "She won't be here tonight."

The girl tilted her head, still shivering and hugging herself. "Who?"

Dyme hadn't meant to say that; he'd merely been thinking out loud. "...my mother..." He seemed shameful and looked down.

"You have a mother?" She marched on the spot, her bare feet sopping wet with the snow.

"Well, she gave birth to me, but she's no mother..." He pulled aside the neck of his t-shirt a bit, revealing an old but painful-looking cigarette burn. "She's _that_ kind of mother."

"Aren't all mothers?" the rather dry, dead reply came.

"Around here."

"I assumed it was just what mothers did... everywhere."

"That's...kind of sad. Mothers are supposed to care for their kids..."

The girl shook her head, as if he had just said the sky was green. "Not at all. They're simply to teach us when we've done wrong. And fathers are when you're REALLY wrong."

"I never knew my father," Dyme murmured. "Are they worse than most mothers?"

The blond nodded, hands covering her bruises but not really hiding the ones on her wrists and ankles. And those were just the visible ones.

Dyme bit his lip. "...I'm sorry..."

"Just shut up and get us out of here. I'm freezing," she snapped defensively.

Looking a little stung, Dyme silently motioned her to follow as he walked up to the ruined house, prying the half-rotten door open. "Ladies first," Dyme murmured, hoping she would hurry so cold wind wouldn't blow in - the glow of a fire was visible inside.

"And have you stab me in the back? No way! You first."

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Dyme nodded and slipped in, waiting for her near the door. Nervously she followed, knowing really she couldn't do anything even if it was only him suddenly launching to attack her, but still, it paid to be wary, and she had no idea who this stranger was. Eventually she went inside and let out a breath.

The inside of the house wasn't near as ominous as its exterior. Threadbare carpeting covered the floor, and a small-but-warm stone fireplace peeped out of a wall with a rickety chair in front of it. "Home sweet home..."

"... you live here?" The younger teen pulled a face of disgust, feeling dirty just breathing in this room. "... I wouldn't even make a rat live here."

"Can't afford better," Dyme said cheerily, walking over to the fire and sitting on the floor by it. "I am a street rat, after all."

She refused to sit down, lest she got some horrible disease. Instead she stood, shoulders bunched and overall posture that of extreme claustrophobic awkwardness and disgust. "C'mon, relax. You won't get much warmer standing that far away."

She took two steps towards the fire then firmly locked still again, scowling.

"Suit yourself," he said with a sigh, getting to his feet. "I'm going to get bandages. Don't go anywhere."

"Was that a threat?"

Dyme raised an eyebrow. "No, I just don't want you getting yourself into any sort of trouble. Besides, who _knows_ how much filth you'll accumulate that way?" Without another word, he turned and walked into a pitch-dark hallway to find bandages for his arm.

"... air-thief..." She shivered and made sure he was gone before kneeling in front of the fire and desperately willing the warmth to reach her.

A little later, Dyme returned with his right arm bandaged. He paused at seeing the girl by the fire, but said nothing about it and sat down a little ways away from her. "...what's your name?"

"... Arlene."

"Nice meeting you, Arlene...I'm Dyme." _Though I'm hardly worth one, ha ha._

"You have a name?" she seemed surprised.

"What, don't think I could afford even that?" His eyes held some amusement. "I was named after what my mother thought I was worth. Same for my brother and sister."

"Ah, so it's just a price tag." Somehow she seemed a-okay with that, though her mild scoff suggested perhaps it was an overestimate on his mother's part.

Dyme grinned. "Yup. But it's better than Penny. She got the short end of the stick." A dismissive grunt, as if the talk of rodents breeding was making her a little sick in her mouth. She flicked some dust off the floor.

_God, with an attitude like that she might actually be okay on her own. No one would want to get near enough to do anything to her._ How he wanted to chuck a dust bunny into her face...but alas; that would be bad.

"How long do I have to be here?"

"We can get you back in the morning."

She glanced at him, choked in laughter, then stopped. "... you're serious? The morning? Seriously?"

Dyme mutely nodded, feeling rather drained.

"... I am _not_ staying here all night, let alone sleeping here. I'd rather be outside!"

"Don't be such a snob," Dyme snapped, quite fed up. "If you sleep outside, you might get attacked, and this time I won't bother almost taking bullets for you!"

"I didn't ask you to anyway!"

"Oh, you'd rather I let you get shot?"

"I didn't ask for you to even come near me!"

"You're right; I should've let you freeze to death out there."

"Yeah, you shoulda!" She got to her feet to storm out.

"Have fun finding your way back," he snapped venomously.

"Fuck you..." She kicked the door so it broke just to spite him, then went back outside with only a parting shout of, "at least it's _cleaner_ out here!"

Dyme sighed and rolled his eyes. _What an unpleasant girl..._ Almost instantly, guilt began to fill him. She really had a low chance of making it out there, and he'd practically kicked her back into it.

* * *

><p>Arlene, meanwhile, was peering into a parked police car, already shivering from the cold. It was empty, and it took her a closer look to realise it had no wheels, and was abandoned. Sighing, she pulled away from it and looked around for anywhere that might be helpful for directions back home.<p>

A tall woman swayed as she stumbled on the ice, heels clicking. She was obviously drunk, and the smell of smoke was obvious. She dropped an empty bottle in the road, causing it to shatter loudly. The sound made Arlene jump and let out a small scream, but upon seeing what creature was responsible she decided she did not need attention from someone like that and tried slipping away quietly.

The woman walked right into the police car and she gave a hoarse scream, though the accident was obviously her fault-dark sunglasses obscured her eyes. Blonde hair was tangled and falling into her face, and scarlet lipstick was smudged around her mouth. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that she had once been very pretty, but had destroyed her looks with smoking and drinking. At hearing some movement, the woman gave a rather unladylike grunt and jerked her head up, mouth slightly agape and sunglasses sliding down her nose. "Whozzere?"

"No one...!"

"Liar," the woman mumbled, looking around. "Who's taggin?"

Arlene was now squatted behind a car, trying to hold her breath. She let silence reign, hoping the woman would get bored and leave her alone.

"...stupid fugging voices 'gain..." The woman walked- lurched- past the car, not noticing that her sunglasses fell off. It was then clear that she rather resembled Dyme; her mouth was quite full, yes, hair too blonde and eyes hazel, but her face shape, eye shape, and nose closely resembled Dyme's.

"... Ew..."

As if to prove her statement true, the woman bent over and retched heavily, nearly falling into her own sick. Whining to herself, she began to crawl over to Dyme's 'house,' banging on a wall. Seeing her chance to escape, Arlene got up and looked around before making a break across the street and into an alleyway, pausing by the mouth of it to check she hadn't been seen. The woman gave up on banging and crawled into the house, hoarsely screaming for Dyme. He was gone, however: in fact, he was behind Arlene. He tapped her shoulder. "We'd better get you back ASAP." He sounded exhausted and certainly looked it.

She screamed and flinched over herself at the touch, expecting pain or to be robbed. Finally seeing who it was, she straightened up and slapped him. "How _dare_ you _touch_ me a-and sneak up behind me!"

Dyme reeled back in shock, a large red handprint on his face. _Don't hit her back, do not hit her back..._ "I'm sorry," he said. "For everything. I was way out of line." He really just needed to get her back so her death wasn't on his hands...

"Just... j-just get me back to my apartments... I don't like this place..." Now the fear and anger had worn off a little, she resumed shivered. Her toes were trying to get red-raw from cold.

Dyme nodded. "Stay close." He turned and began to walk quickly off, trying to keep away the cold.

"I'm going to tell Father about this, and he'll go straight to the police and have them purge these streets entirely of all this ridiculous... scary stuff..." Dyme just barely managed not to snort. He instead remained silent and turned a corner, waiting for her. "... do you think those weirdos will still be around?"

"I hope not."

"Are there any others that might hurt me?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "Don't know who'll be out and about at this time of night...or morning." She shivered again and tucked her hands into her armpits. Her feet felt numb now and she was slowing. Dyme looked back and grimaced; she looked to be showing signs of frostbite and/or hypothermia. "c'mon, we have to keep moving..."

"A-aren't there any p-places open this time of night?"

"If only...unless you want me to break into somewhere and get you some shoes."

"... but that's against the law..." She blinked, confused he could even casually suggest that.

"Do you think the law matters much to people down here? We're stuck in this hellhole and we do what we can to get by."

"... you're crazy."

"Feeling's mutual," Dyme said with a chuckle. Offended, she shoved him lightly, then picked up her walking pace again, storming off ahead. "Oh come ON," he groaned under his breath, dashing back up to her. "Left." She obeyed, but she didn't like it, and still kept glaring at the floor. "And another left. We've gotta hurry or we'll both be in trouble..." Dyme shivered heavily, teeth chattering uncontrollably.

"Least you _have_ c-clothes..." As if to finally punish her for her rudeness she slipped on some ice and went down with a wail. Dyme instantly pulled her up. "And I'd offer you them, but I have a feeling you'd rather not touch them."

"Don't _touch_ me."

Dyme breathed in heavily through his nose, resisting the urge to start yelling. "I'm sorry, but you'd fallen and I thought that perhaps some help up would be appreciated."

"Just don't touch, breathe near, or get close to me, and you'll have helped to the best of your ability." She was back on her feet, though nursing a cut on her knee and looking pale at it. "... I think I need a doctor..."

"It's shallow, you'll be all right." Dyme was trying so hard not to beat the goddamn rudeness out of her. "We're almost there."

"But I'm bleeding!"

"That doesn't mean you're in deep trouble. If anything, it just needs to be disinfected and a band-aid."

"D-disinfect...?" That didn't calm her at all and now she was more eager to get home than ever, looking distressed.

"Yes, disinfect. I almost lost an entire arm once from infection...but you should be okay. I think." He couldn't help but take his revenge this way, keeping up a perfect poker face.

She actually whimpered and picked up her pace, snapping, "Let's keep moving!"

He waited until she was no longer facing him to grin before catching up. "I couldn't agree more...here we are!" He pointed at the nearby apartment then looked down at her knee, grimacing. "Uh-oh..."

"What? _What_?"

"It's looking pretty bad now: at this rate, we might have to replace the entire side of your body."

It perhaps worked too well. She gasped, trembled, staggered with a whispered protest... then fainted.

"...oops." Dyme quickly used this opportunity to get all of his laughter out, staggering and doubling over before suddenly straightening up, dead serious. "...can't just leave her there. I'll just have to deal with her." With a sigh, he stooped down and picked Arlene up, shaking her a bit in hopes of waking her. All he got was a soft groan, her head rolling limply to the other shoulder. Sigh. "Perfect..." He looked up at the top of the apartment. It didn't look like anyone was particularly waiting up for her; the only visible lights on in the whole building were those of the entrance.

Feeling as though he didn't belong and shouldn't be there, Dyme hesitantly walked into the entrance, still clutching Arlene.

A security guard was slouching against the wall near the elevator, but instantly woke up properly upon seeing him and strode over. "I suggest you leave, little man. We don't cater for the likes of you."

Biting back a retort, Dyme looked up at the guard. "I need to get her to her parents..."

The man took a closer look at her, then glanced about suspiciously, before leaning closer, dropping his voice. "I'm under strict instructions from her dad to make sure she doesn't come back until tomorrow."

"What kind of parent-" Dyme broke off, biting his lip. "She's nearly got hypothermia, she can't go back out ther.!"

"Just trust me when I say she's better off out there then if her parents get her right now."

Dyme's brow furrowed as he looked up at the guard. "...okay." His voice was defeated and small as he turned to leave.

"Just for the record, we never had this conversation. I got kids that need my wage: I ain't getting fired because I let her within ten paces of the elevator."

"What conversation?" Dyme asked before he left the apartment, feeling anxious.

"... usually... he drives me somewhere far from anywhere..." a small voice murmured quietly.

Dyme looked down at Arlene. "That's horrible."

"... I'm horrible."

_I'll say...wait, that's mean. Do NOT grin._ "No you're not."

"Like you know me."

"I know enough to know you're not horrible." _Deep, DEEP down._

She scoffed and shifted in his arms, wanting to be put down. He slowly let her, steadying her to make sure her knees didn't buckle. "I'm _fine_," she grunted, shoving him away then sulking off to sit on the bonnet of a car.

"I'm just trying to help..." Dyme said with a tired sigh.

"... _why_?"

"You should always help those in need, no matter who they are."

"Yeah... and look at you. Try helping yourself first, idiot."

"What, you care?"

"NO."

Dyme grinned a little, but it quickly faded. "My purpose has never been to help myself."

"And look at you now. Nice to see how that turned out for you." She pulled her knees up to hug, shivering hard. A van was slowly pulling up down the road, lights off. Upon seeing it, she carefully uncurled, then murmured, "... should we get out of here?"

Dyme was about to retort when he saw the van. "Yes. Now." She hopped off car and moved to him, hearing people exiting the van and odd, loud calls and teases. "Keep ahead of me," he muttered to her as they walked quickly along.

"Awww, where ya going, kids?" A smash of glass: a dropped bottle.

"Where ARE we going?" Arlene hissed over her shoulder.

"Away from here," Dyme whispered urgently.

More glass smashed, closer behind them. The bottles were being thrown now. "Get your scrawny, no-good asses back here, little shits..." Smash.

Dyme grabbed Arlene's arm and bolted, praying she wouldn't fall. "Motherfucker..." A bottle clocked him in the back within seconds, whilst Arlene stepped on the glass it left. They both stumbled, Dyme yelping with eyes wide in panic as he fell and accidentally brought Arlene down with him.

"We asked _nicely_, but nooooooo, had to be rude! Didn't even say hI!" Drunken hands latched about Dyme's ankles, dragging him backwards on his belly through the glass before flipping him over. A man was raising a fist to punch him whilst Arlene was quickly back pedalling on her hands and feet from his friend that was merely curious as to why she was in night ware. Dyme gasped, hands scrabbling on the ground for a minute before he was flipped over. He frantically began rummaging through his pockets for his switchblade, but his haste made him fumbling and clumsy. The man began punching, but thankfully was so drunk most of his punches hit the ground by Dyme's head, getting sliced with the glass from his own bottle. Arlene, meanwhile, was screaming as the other guy took her wrist and was trying sincerely to assure her he wasn't going to hurt her. She kicked him in the stomach but he seemed too drunk to feel it and just tried to soothe her, mumbling, "where your parents?"

Dyme struggled violently to get away, accidentally sending his switchblade skittering across the icy ground. He tried kneeing the man's stomach hard, twisting. "Man, you're scaring the girly," his companion mumbled, as if having a headache. "Can't you just chill...? S'no need for the shouting and stuff..."

"Fuck chill, I hate kids who gots no respect!" However the more violent man just spat aside, then grunted, "you kids gemme some drink... gemme drink and I'd like youse..."

"We don't have any drinks!" Dyme cried, desperately reaching for his knife.

He got punched in the face for speaking back. "S'why I said _get_ some, ignorant little shit..."

Dyme yelped, clutching a bloody nose with one hand and reaching for his knife with the other-but it was impossibly far away. A third figure put his boot on it to stop him getting it. And smirked down on him. "Sounds fun. Get us some drink, son, and maybe we'll give you a nice warm place to stay. We've got beds."

Dyme shuddered, withdrawing his hand away from the boot. "J-just get away!" It was rare that he ever got into fights, and he knew that there was no way he'd emerge the victor.

"Way to go give them the wrong impression," the first grunted at the third.

"The girly is hurt..." the second pointed out somewhat sympathetically, patting her and pulling her into a cuddle despite Arlene wailing to be let go. "We have stuff in the back of the van if you like?"

"... again, way to go give them the wrong impression."

Dyme used this distraction to smack the man pinning him down in the face and writhe away, scrambling backwards and slipping. Arlene tried the same but the cuddly one simply patted her head and held her tighter, sighing as the second man yelped at the punch and withdrew a knife, yelling, "I'll have you!" Dyme managed to get up to his feet but miserably slipped down again, looking desperately at his knife under the third man's boot.

"You want it?" the man asked smugly. He lifted his boot off the knife then nudged it aside so it fell down a storm drain. "Oops. Clumsy me."

Dyme's eyes widened in shock before his fists clenched in fury. He got to his feet, managing to stay standing this time, and bolted over to grab Arlene away. The violent one simply slugged him the second he got close, making Arlene struggle again. "Would you calm down? You'll only get more upset!" the one holding her murmured 'comfortingly'.

"I suggest if you don't want my last bottle in your eye - and _God_ I will be _angry_ if I have to use it for that - then I suggest you go get us more. Girly can stay with us, cus she was _nice_."

"I don't want to stay here!"

Dyme reeled back, eyes watering from the force of the blow. He didn't want to leave Arlene at all but he almost had no choice. "...fine." His voice shook with anger. "I'll get your damn drinks." He looked over at Arlene. "I'll be back," he murmured before charging off.

"You can't leave me here!" she paled, screaming and kicking.

"Evidently, he just did," the third man chuckled.

"Awwwww, be nice. She's upset."

"Fucking kids..."

* * *

><p>AN: Based on an AU RP.


	2. Chapter 2

Half an hour later, Dyme returned clutching two kegs of booze and panting slightly. "There. Now let her go."

"Hand over the drinks first." They were sat in the back of their van, lounging about and smoking, Arlene wedged between them looking sickly but at least warmer.

Dyme shuffled up and held out the kegs, glaring. The smug one got up, flicking his cigarette aside before reaching out to take the drinks... and instead grabbed Dyme's arm, yanked him forward and hurled him into the back of the van. Closing the back doors for his two companions to deal with the teenagers, he then went around the van and got into the driver's seat, smirking. "At what point did we say we'd give her back, or even let you go?" he called over his shoulder as he started the engine.

Dyme gasped in surprise as he was yanked into the fan, face white with horror. "No!" he cried. "You filthy _bastards_!"

"Wh-what's h-happening!"

"I suggest you sit still and be quiet," the kinder of the men murmured calmly. "My friends get angry and upset when they hear screams. I'm sorry."

"And we do have ropes and gags," the more violent one growled, less than calmly.

Dyme shrunk back with horror, falling silent. Pulling his knees up to his chest and hiding his face in them, he did his best not to shake. "A-arlene, I'm s-so sorry..." The girl shivered and actually sidled closer to him in the dark. "W-what's... they're not... _really_ d-doing this, are they?"

"We have food, if you kids like?" the nicer one offered apologetically in a soft voice, as if this nightmare was all a minor inconvenience for the teenagers. "It will be a teeensy bit of a drive... sorry, 'bout this, man..."

"Like we'd eat anything you gave us," Dyme said in a muffled, wretched voice. He didn't care if his stomach was concave or he had a forced-hourglass shape to his bony body.

"Aight, aight, calm down. Can't help but feel we got off on the wrong foot. My name's Ricky, and this is Ke-"

"The fuck are you doing! Don't tell them our names! They're pets, not buddies! You give them my fucking name I am going to waste you, I swear to-"

"This is Keith. He has anger issues, but he's sweet really."

"... I have a gun, Rick. And I swear to God, the barrel will be in your mouth next time you open it."

The only word that registered in Dyme and Arlene's minds was 'pets.' "...p...pets?"

Ricky sighed and turned to Keith. "Now you've upset them."

There came the audible click of a gun, then a brief silence. Then Keith whispered, "I warned you Rick. Warned you. Now do I have to pull this trigger, or are you going to shut up?" Further silence, then Keith growling, "that's what I thought. Now as for you kids, if you want this to be as painless as possible, you'll shut up and stop asking questions. Get me?"

"Y-yes." Dyme had begun to shake and was hugging himself for comfort. Arlene was too in shock at the sound of the gun to make a reply. Stunned into silence, she slipped her hand into Dyme's and squeezed, breathing shaky. The van hit a bump in the road, jerking them a little. Dyme was surprised that Arlene touched him but squeezed her hand back, whimpering at the bump.

* * *

><p>As time seemed to drag by, several more bumps hit the van, and Arlene had a feeling they were no longer in the city, which terrified her more. The poor light they had inside the van became a pitch blackness as the street lights vanished, and by the time morning was dawning, the van was still not stopping. Keith never stopped watching them, eyes glinting hard in the near blackness and narrowed keenly for the first sign of movement from them, whilst Ricky had sighed and opened a bag of potato chips, offering them to the teens. Dyme's stomach gave a monstrous gurgle, but he refused the chips. He'd never tasted any kind of chip, but he certainly wouldn't do it this way. Arlene, meanwhile, was used to dining whenever it suited he,r and she'd been denied that a long while now. Nervously, she reached in and took a solitary chip, nibbling it. Ricky smiled and leant back to enjoy the rest himself.<p>

"Rick, Keith; we're almost here," the third man in the driver's seat called. "Get them roped." Dyme's head shot up and he backed into the side or the van. "N-no," he whispered.

Keith was already moving in, positioned so that he helped back them into the corner of the van furthest from the back doors. Ricky sighed reluctantly and unwounded some rope from beside him. "Wh-what are you going to do?" Arlene whispered, pressing to the corner and looking between them.

"I tell you what I'm going to do if either of you struggle. I'm going to shoot you in the knees."

Dyme's eyes were wide with horror, but even so he moved slightly in front of Arlene. "You wanna go first, kid?" Keith snorted in amusement. "Fair enough." He grabbed Dyme by the ankle and tugged him so he fell onto his back. Quickly Ricky began binding his ankles together whilst Keith sat on his arms and stomach. His eyes and gun, however, were pointed at Arlene. She shook and opened her mouth to protest, but his eyes told her the second she made a sound, he was going to silence her.

"A-arlene," Dyme choked out. "I'm s-so sorry...this is all my fault." How he wished he could struggle! But alas; he valued his knees and Arlene's life. Ricky had finished with his ankles and quickly got to binding his hands. "I'm sorry too," the man sighed. "You're both great kids..."

"Stop being a pussy and do the girl next." Now Dyme was relatively harmless, Keith lowered his gun and shoved Arlene to the floor of the van too, where she kicked and started to scream but was soon also trussed up thanks to their combined efforts. Dyme flinched at the screaming, trying to find some way to wriggle out of the tough rope, but to no avail: Ricky seemed to be quite skilled at knot work. Keith seemed to be actually enjoying himself now, seeing the two powerless and flung to one side at his mercy. He knelt down and teased, "by the way? The gun isn't even loaded."

Dyme's eyes widened, then squeezed shut as a wave of self-hatred came over him. He stopped struggling, seeming to just give up, no longer having the will to fight. "There's a happy sight."

"Keith, have some pity."

The van came to a stop, and the engine cut out. The third man got out, then fumbled with the back doors of the van, letting in harsh sunlight. Dyme winced, curling up slightly as if it would protect himself. His eyes watered behind their lids, but not just from the bright light

"Did they behave?"

"Yep."

"Good. Well, better get them inside, quickly. There was a cop car parked about two miles back, but the copper was sleeping."

Without argument, Keith dragged Dyme out of the van and slung him over his shoulder so he couldn't see where they were being taken, Ricky doing the same for Arlene who was begging for answers. Dyme was dead silent, feeling absolutely no hope. He didn't struggle or try to see where they were going, know that it was at least something hellish. Arlene was whimpering hard, but soon silenced, fearing they would hurt her for making a noise.

"Now don't look so gloomy; consider this your new home!" the third man followed, lifting the teens head by the chin and smooshing their cheeks between his thumbs and fingers. "We have food, and beds, and games!"

Dyme visibly shuddered and cringed, pulling away. "What do you want from us?"

"Ah ah, first rule of the family; you ask questions, you get sent to 'the study'." Ricky actually shivered, and Arlene felt it from her place over his shoulder.

"Wh-?" Dyme noticed the shiver and bit his lip, falling silent. He was hardly able to make eye contact with the man, fear visible in his eyes.

They were now entering a tiny, ramshackle hut. Unseen from their point of view, they were then led via crouching through a large stone fireplace, which in turn led to a series of underground chambers. The third man, supposedly the ringleader, sealed up the entrance then smirked at them as they were suddenly dumped in a pile of ash and dirt. "We'll let you sleep here aaallllll day just to settle after that journey. We'll be busy setting up your rooms. Later, kids!"

And with that, the three men finally slunk off, sealing another door and dropping the room into complete pitch black. The only comfort was that the ashes and dirt were soft and comfortable, but otherwise, Arlene was starting to hyperventilate. Dyme managed to get off of his side and onto his rear, burying his face in his knees again. Biting his tongue to prevent himself from making noise, he began to shake with silent sobs, wetness coursing down his face.

"I want t-to go home," Arlene whispered miserably with terror.

"Y-yeah," Dyme nodded, throat constricted. He began to rock back and forth, taking shaky breaths in to soothe himself. Arlene just about held her composure for five minutes, before she burst into tears and curled up onto her side. Dyme let out a whimper, crying quietly now, sobs punctuated with "I'm sorry" every now and then.

* * *

><p>What felt like a hellish eternity later, the door was finally opened, and torchlight shone in as it was shut behind again.<p>

"S'only me," Ricky's voice said gently as he shone the torch on them. "I've brought you some food and blankets... I shouldn't be here, but the other two are... 'cleaning' the rooms." The teens looked up at him, tear tracks visible on their faces from grime. They said nothing and hid their faces again. "I'm sorry..." He put down the tray of food and left the torch on it. He knelt beside Dyme and put a blanket over him. "My first day was scary too. But Ian's a great Dad. As long as you do what he says, you don't need to be afraid."

Dyme didn't flinch away from the blanket, but his head snapped up at the later sentence, throwing a panicked glance at an equally alarmed Arlene. "What?" he said loudly, looking horrified. "D-dad?"

"Yeah. Took me a while to see him that way, but now I'm grateful he took me in. I don't need anyone else."

"H-he's not my father! He never will be my father!"

"Shhhh!" At that Ricky sounded urgent. "Not so loud! He'll hear you!"

Arlene shivered and tried righting herself in the ash but ended up still laid on her side. "We want to go home!"

"_Shhhh_-"

The door screeched open. Light flooded in. 'Ian' stood in the doorframe.

"I don't remember telling you to pester your baby brother and sister, Rick."

Dyme almost gagged, flinching away from Ian, totally unable to look him in the eye.

"In fact, I specifically said to leave them alone. You've been a bad older sibling by intruding here without invitation. The study."

"... yes, Dad..." Shaking and pale, Ricky rose to his feet and trembled out of the room, head bowed in obedience. Ian watched him go, then glanced back at the other two. Smiled. Then slammed and locked the door, leaving them alone in the dark again.

"... We have to get out of here..." Arlene whispered.

"H-how the h-hell are we s-supposed to d-do that?" Dyme was openly crying now, shaking hard.

"I don't know but I don't want to be here!" She began kicking her bound ankles to try and move along the floor, but got stuck in the pile of ash and ended up merely covered in filth.

"S'no use," mumbled Dyme. "Ropes're too strong."

"... a-are we going to die h-here...?"

"Th-that or we'll become like K-keith and Ricky..."

"... oh God..." She burst into tears again, shaking. Dyme was at this point too dehydrated and exhausted to cry anymore. Before he knew it he was drifting off fast into sleep, making a small thud as he slumped into the ash.

* * *

><p>When he next awoke, he was in a small bed, in a brightly lit room. Alone.<p>

Still feeling drained, Dyme slowly sat up, rubbing his temples to alleviate the headache he had. There seemed to be an argument going on outside his door between Keith and Ian.

"Why didn't you _check_?"

"Ricky asked where their parents were and neither of them answered! We just assumed-"

"You do _not_ 'just assume'! Idiots!"

Dyme squinted slightly, brow furrowing as the arguement took time to seep in. _I don't remember being questioned..._

"Someone will _look_, you idiot! Don't you know who she is!"

"Oi! Me and Ricky did what you said! Don't you fucking dare turn this on us!"

"I will _not _lose my family over this! But I'm not about to lose my business either!"

"When what can we do?"

"You'd better pray no one finds us, or you and your idiot brother are getting 'kicked out', understood!"

"... yes, Dad."

"Good... now... go pick up your brother and little sister from the study."

"... right..."

Dyme's eyes widened slightly, a thrill of hope leaping into his heart. He'd forgotten that Arlene was the daughter of some very important people... _Is THIS the study?_ Dyme looked around himself. It didn't seem so bad...

At that point Ian pushed through the door, instantly putting on a smile. "My son, it's good to see you awake! You slept like a baby, it was quite cute. How are you feeling?"

_Repulsed._ "...I'm okay..." He was tense and nervous at the arrival of this man. "Wh-" he cut himself off before the question left his mouth.

"I'm sorry you had to wake up alone. I usually adopt in pairs to help my newborns adjust, but your sister was incredibly naughty and tried to run away from home, so I had to put her in the study. She might be a bit queasy when she comes back, but soon you'll have your playmate with you, and I can name you both."

Dyme paled significantly. _Arlene...!_ "I have a name," he whispered. "I'm Dyme."

"And have you ever heard that name spoken with love? Look at you: you're hungry, cold, skinny, bruised and bloodied... Have you ever heard your own name spoken with affection, or care?"

"...n...no..."

"You need a new name. One that won't remind you of all the hurt and bad things that happened." Ian smiled and patted Dyme's shoulder. "You're about to get a brand new life, without the hunger and poverty. I don't want any son of mine to remember the traumas from their old lives."

There _had_ been a time when his name had been spoken with love-by his brither. But Cash was long dead, and Dyme was still hurting. He flinched at the contact with Ian, but only nodded numbly, knowing it would be unwise to argue.

At this point, there was a knock at the door and Ian called over his shoulder for them to come in. Keith pushed Arlene in. "Aaaah, and here's Daddy's little angel!"

There was something distinctly wrong with her. Her face was wet with tears and there were new bruises around her wrists. However, she smiled at Ian and whispered, "Hello Dad. Hello Brother," in a strange way.

A look of horror crossed Dyme's face before he buried it in his hands, fighting back tears. "A-arlene," he whimpered. Ian just smiled back and beckoned her over for a cuddle. Without a single word of complaint of hesitation, she beamed and sat in his lap, comfy in his arms. "I feel giddy..."

"It's normal, dear. Son, say hello to your sister: it's rude not to say hello back when someone greets you."

Dyme looked up, eyes red with unshed tears. "H-hello."

"That's much better." Picking Arlene off his lap and putting her beside Dyme, Ian then went to talk with Keith about how Ricky was faring. Whilst his back was turned, Arlene finally stopped smiling and almost burst into tears again but quickly scrubbed her face and took Dyme's hand, squeezing hard. The second Ian turned back around, she smiled again. "Heh, sorry about that, kids. Noooow, who's ready for their new name?"

"Me!" Arlene chirped excitedly... or... in pretend excitement, judging by the way she squeezed Dyme's hand desperately. Dyme squeezed her hand back, trying to put as much reassurance into it as he could. Unable to speak, he merely nodded at Ian's question, forcing a small smile.

Ian beamed, practically delighted about their enthusiasm. Sitting on the bed again, he pulled them into his arms and swayed them as he thought. "Ah, my two new babies, let's have a good long think. You know, I was thinking about your names on the drive up here. I was sloppy with Ricky and Keith, but the more I adopt, the more thought I put into it. So I was thinking and thinking, and I was remembering your little quirks. Especially you, son. You tried to bite and squabble, despite us being almost twice your size. That's very brave. You are a brave boy, and you didn't just run off to leave your sister here when she needed you. So I decided that you will become a David. Y'know, like in the Bible? Now there was a brave young man, noble and willing to stand up to those he was scared of, even when they were bigger than him! Isn't that a great name? Doesn't it make you feel so much better?"

Dyme was trying valiantly not to shake when he was hugged by Ian-and thankfully, he was succeeding. He listened to his speech, finally nodding at the end. "Yes." He smiled not too widely, but what appeared to be sincerely. "I feel much better about my identity now."

"Good. And you, my little daughter... aaah, it's been so long since I've had a daughter. My last one didn't stay long. She grew rebellious and I had her... 'thrown out'. We don't want that, do we? We want a lovely, charming, friendly and quiet little girl, yes. And such a girl needs a name to fit that. I suppose it was my fault for naming my last daughter Scarlet: the colour of passion and love, but also anger and aggression. No no no, I won't make that mistake again. You want a kind name. A gentle name. You shall be my little Emily."

Arlene just blinked, her facade slipping slightly, but she instantly fixed it and beamed, "it's beautiful, thank you, Dad!"

Dyme - or was it David? - beamed over at 'Emily,' revulsion buried deep in his eyes. "Isn't this exciting?" he asked, voice a little stronger.

She smiled back and hugged Ian, who seemed genuinely touched. "You're such good children... I'm proud to be your father. Rest. You both deserve it. You'll find some books, board games, and some little snacks for you in this room. Have fun! Tomorrow I'll set you your chores."

"Thank you, d-dad," Dyme smiled, still having a little difficulty at getting the word to leave his mouth. Pleased, Ian pressed a kiss to their scalps in turn, then got up and left them, making sure they heard the door lock behind him.

The second he was gone, Arlene crumpled and pushed her head into her pillow to stifle her sobs in case Ian was listening outside the door. Dyme curled into ball, hands clutching at his hair as he rocked back and forth with quiet sobs. He felt filthier than he ever had in his life, contaminated, damaged...

Arlene felt worse so, still shaken from being dragged by the hair to that horrible, horrible room. Still, she managed to crawl to Dyme and push her face into his side, shaking. The boy wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, getting smudges of ash all over her. He felt bad about that, but was too busy hyperventilating to really dwell on it. "We c-can never forget...our real names..." he whispered. "We c-can never let him break us."

"T-too late for m-me..."

"D-don't say that...please..." The desperate plea in his voice was apparent. "H-he won't have truly broken us if we remember who we are or who we used to be."

Arlene just cried harder. That was just the problem: since being dragged to 'the study'... suddenly she couldn't remember the faces of her parents, or her name. "It'll b-be okay, Arlene...w-we'll get out of this..."

"... Arlene... that's... me?"

"...y..." Dyme couldn't even get the word out before he buried his face into Arlene's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. That was too much for her to take. Clinging she sobbed back until she felt sick and giddy.

Dyme had eventually sunk into exhausted silence. He was extremely dehydrated now and found it quite hard to stay awake.

"... I feel sick..."

"Me too..." he mumbled sleepily. Ian had said there would be snacks around the room; did that include water?

Deciding to get up and at least explore their prison, Arlene hugged herself as she shuffled about. There was an en suite bathroom, though it looked filthier than they did right now. Across the room was a tray of biscuits, chocolates and a large jug of water. But no glasses. In a tatty bookcase were some old books, worryingly enough all seeming to be about learning respect and 'things to do with Daddy'. Beside that was a cabinet with smudged glass windows, and when she bent down to open it, she saw some highly battered boxes of old board games.

Dyme lifted his head up to watch Arlene, eyes red and puffy. He slid off of the bed, swaying dizzily as he stumbled over to where she was. Arlene sunk to her knees, staring sadly about the room. The only light source was the two light bulbs swinging above. They must still be underground. "... I think we're going to die here."

"...I...we shouldn't..." Dyme sighed. "I think you're right..." He looked over at the filthy bathroom and frowned. "...if we're going to be here a while...shouldn't we make it more inhabitable?"

"Yeah... god I feel sicker just seeing it all..."

"The shower might work...we might be able to get some grime away..."

Nodding, Arlene got up and risked shuffling into the horrid bathroom. Tentatively, she reached in and jiggled the dial, when suddenly a freezing cold, _brown_ water splattered down on top of her, making her scream, recoil back, then rush out the room wailing.

Dyme gasped at the sight. "I-I'm sorry!" he cried, bravely dashing into the awful place to shut off the water, but getting his front covered in the muck in the process. Sat in the corner shaking in shock, Arlene looked at herself and found most of her nightie had escaped the horrid liquid. But her hair... She grimaced and shuddered. "How are we meant to wash?"

Dyme was trembling as well. "Maybe we have to stay here longer and earn Ian's trust or something. I doubt Keith and Ricky live in squalor."

"... please tell me the toilet flushes. At _least_. Please tell me it flushes."

"..." Dyme nervously walked over to the toilet, pulling on the handle. Grimy, lumpy greenish goo quickly overflowed, causing Dyme to gasp and jump back. Arlene actually dry-heaved.

"F-fuck...this c-can't...how are we t-to live?"

"... Oh God." Arlene suddenly remembered something from the 'study', as traumatising as it had been. "He told me."

"W-what?"

She put her face in her hands, rocking a little as she tried to remember. "... he... h-he said... 'you will learn to love me. You will learn that I am the giver of everything you could ever want. You will also learn I can take whatever I want from you if I see fit. You will learn to be grateful for the feeding hand. Everything will be provided only by me'." She paused, then groaned. "I think he's going to regulate everything we do. Even shutting off the plumbing when he deems fit."

Dyme groaned. "That's just wonderful."

"... for a few minutes, I adored him. And I don't know why... I can't... remember..."

"Maybe it's some sort of hypnosis. Maybe that's why you can't remember anything."

"I remember him saying before he dragged me in that the study was the place he 'educated' all his children."

"...that sounds like brainwashing."

"Oh God." She hugged her knees and pushed her head into them, shivering.

"I'm so sorry..." He would have hugged her, but he was still covered in foul-smelling muck.

"Are there any towels we can use?"

Dyme stepped back into the horrible bathroom, carefully avoiding puddles of filth. He looked under the disgusting sink and sighed in relief. "Yes, thank god..." He carried a stack of thankfully-clean towels out, looking a little calmed. "Ladies first." She took a small corner of a towel and rubbed it into her hair. Within seconds, the corner was a filthy muddy colour, and her hair was still a little stained, if not drier. "Looks as if the worst of it's gone."

"... Kay." She pulled back then held the towel. "Your turn." She knelt then started rubbing and scrubbing at him as best as she could. He blinked as she started scrubbing him down, though he didn't mind it. It felt actually nice...emotionally, at least. "Thanks..."

When she finished doing her best, she withdrew and folded out the towel. It had once been white. It was now beige and brown. "... is there a bin in here?"

Dyme looked around. "Not that I can see..."

"..." She flung it into a dark corner so they wouldn't have to look at it ever again, then wiped her hands on her nightie. "... What do we do now...?"

"Sleep, maybe?"

"I don't feel safe sleeping here," Arlene murmured, glancing around to see if there were any cameras about. "You sleep. I'll stay awake and... scream if something happens."

"Alright." Dyme wandered over to his bed, flopping down on it on his back to avoid sleeping on the still-damp stains on his clothes. He gave a heavy sigh before closing his eyes and drifting off.

* * *

><p>Arlene passed the time playing chess against herself. She was just about to flick the white queen across the room for the eighth time, when suddenly there came a loud, strange gurgling from the bathroom. With a squeak she jumped to her feet, then nervously shuffled to inspect. The water in the toilet was being steadily drained, only to be refilled with clean water. The shower suddenly vomited out a small spurt of the brown sludge, before sparkling clean water appeared there too. Amazing, Arlene looked around, then noticed above the bathroom door was a little digital clock. It was counting down from an hour to zero. It was currently on 0:59:41.<p>

"... Davi- I mean, Dyme! Dyme, wake up! We can wash!"

Dyme bolted up with a grunt. "Whuzzit?"

"We have water!"

"Oh thank god!" Not wasting another moment, Dyme dashed over to the bathroom and smiled at the water. "You wash up first, you'll be quicker." She was not about to argue over it, and instantly pushed him out of the room, shutting the door behind. It was very dark with the door shut, but she instantly clambered into the shower after undressing and actually smiled in relief genuinely for the first time that day. Dyme laughed a bit, then realized he seriously needed to take a pee. "...blast."

Thankfully for him, Arlene was only in there a short time, as the water was a lot colder than what she was used to and she was aware he would need a fair amount of time. However, it was then she realised she had taken all of the towels out the room. "... U-uh... Dyme...? Uuuuuuh... eh heh... towels..."

Dyme was right at the door with a towel. "Way ahead of you." Her arm snaked out and grabbed it before withdrawing and closing the door again. As she got back in the shower the boy paced and quietly whined. _OHGODHURRYYYYYY._

A few minutes later, she came out wrapped in the towel and still a bit damp, but leaving the bathroom free for him as she looked mournfully at her filthy nightie. "Did he leave us any clothes?"

"Dunno." Wasting no more time, Dyme shot into the room and closed the door, taking the quickest pee in his life before flinging his disgusting clothes off and hopping into the shower, scrubbing himself furiously. At one point the door opened a fractional margin and a hand dumped a fresh towel by the door before it shut again. Dyme was too busy getting the topmost layer of grime off of himself to notice. After reinvigorated scrubbing, hardly a trace of dirt wad left. And he had 6:12 to spare! Picking up the towel with a small smile, he scrubbed himself dry as quickly as he could, barely even changing the towel's colour. "Five minutes left if you need to do anything," he called, wrapping the towel securely around his waist and quickly gathering up his filthy clothes.

"I found some clothes under the bed," she called back, though she didn't sound very enthusiastic. If anything, she sounded ready to puke. Dyme frowned at her tone of voice and walked out .

She was ghostly white, knelt by the bed holding the skeleton of a child, wearing the clothes she had mentioned.

He turned as white as Arlene and nearly dropped the clothes. "Oh...my..."

It took Arlene about seven seconds for the shock to wear off to the point where she could unfreeze herself, and quickly she let it drop and backed away into the far wall. Dyme sank to his knees, tangled hair obscuring his face - it was long enough to be a girl's hair. He shook his head in disgust. "We...sh-shouldn't...what would he do if he finds out..."

"But we didn't put it there!"

"I-I know but who knows what he'll do!" He began to shake, doubling over on his knees. The ridge of his spine stuck out painfully clearly, as well as his shoulder blades. He looked like defeat incarnate as he hugged himself, rocking slightly. Arlene decided to make good use of the 3 minutes of fresh water they had left, and staggered into the bathroom to be sick. Once she flushed, she tottered back out and knelt beside him, hugging. "That's going to be us one day... that's going to be us..." she whispered hysterically.

"Not if we don't act up. I-I mean, Ricky and Keith have l-lasted."

Arlene shivered. That was true, and Keith didn't seem the most compliant of 'sons'. But still. She pushed her face into his neck, shaking. "I can't remember home but I want to be there." Dyme wrapped his arms around her and held her close. It was a much nicer sort of hug now that he was clean-he didn't get anything on her and he didn't smell foul. The shower shut off and there came the horrible churning as the toilet was made unusable again. Arlene still sobbed into his neck before pulling back and sniffing. "I can't do this."

"Hey..." Dyme held Arlene's shoulders with shaky, long-fingered hands. "Ricky said he had a tough time when he started b-but he's been here just about the longest. If he can make it, so can we." His eyes were much more reassuring now that they peered out of a clean face instead of a grime pool - and it was a nice face to boot.

She looked up and protested desperately, "but I don't _want_ to be here. I don't _want_ to do this. I know I have a family already and I want _that_ one, even if I can't remember their faces!"

"I know but..." Dyme bit his lip. "...I just don't know what the chances are of us being found...a-and...I thought that it might be in our best interest to t-try to get the best out of this." His voice dropped to a shameful whisper at the end.

"... y-you're... just going to let them win?" Arlene gazed at him with disbelief and hopelessness.

Dyme bowed his head, hands dropping from her shoulders. "I just...d-don't know."

"... let's just... think about it later..."

He nodded numbly. "S'only day one."

She couldn't think of anything more to say to that; in truth that fact made her more depressed. She picked up her grubby nightie, and slipped back into the bathroom and got dressed. Dyme found that the stains on his clothes had dried, so he very quickly put them back on and walked over to the water jug, pouring a bit in his hand and drinking it. It was dusty and bitter, but he desperately needed it. Coming back out dressed, Arlene looked about the room, once more taking in the emptiness and the desolation of what to anyone else would look like your typical poor bedroom. Albeit a typical bedroom with a skeleton laying on the rug. "I think we should sleep."

"I agree." Dyme crawled under the covers of his bed, curling up. She sighed and took one of the towels, laying it on the floor as he seemed keen to take the bed. She curled up as tight as she could and held herself. Upon seeing this, Dyme felt pity and slipped out of the bed.

"We'll trade. I had the bed earlier. Get good rest."

"... thank you." she whispered, too tired and sickly from the day's events to want to argue. Besides, modesty and humbleness were not things she was familiar with. She slipped into the covers and instantly fell to sleep despite the skeleton at the bedside.

* * *

><p>Dyme's sleep was much less easy - it took him quite long to fall asleep, and when he did, his dreams were plagued with nightmares about looking under a bed to see his brother's rotting corpse. He woke up covered in cold sweat, clutching his head and silently screaming, mouth open wide but only a whispering rasp came out.<p>

Arlene was still asleep, but she too seemed to be having a restless night, day, whatever it was. She whimpered and flinched, fingers clenching and unclenching, half the duvet kicked off. Half-delirious in fright, Dyme staggered up and aimlessly stumbled about, tripping a bit over the skeleton. He dug his nails into the door, scratching them down. That awoke her with a short scream, but as she gathered her nerves she saw it was him and got out of the bed to check if he was okay. He didn't look over, slumped against the door and wheezing.

"Wh... what's wrong?" She nervously took his shoulders and tried to pull him from the door.

Dyme didn't flinch or protest, groaning and holding his head. "Make it stop...make it all go away..."

She didn't know what to do, so sat him on the bed and then sat next to him, pulling his hands from his face. "What's wrong?"

His eyes were wet, track of moisture going down his face. "I keep seeing his body...he's angry with me...he won't go," moaned Dyme. "He hates me for giving up...for forgetting him..."

"I-i don't know what you're talking about..."

"M-my brother," Dyme sobbed. "My little brother...he keeps showing me him under the bed, rotten...you under the bed, rotten...me under the bed, rotten..."

"Please stop saying things like that, please, you're scaring me..." She took his shoulders again and shook them a little, voice desperate. The shaking seemed to jar Dyme and he stared at Arlene in surprise for a moment, collapsing onto her shoulder and weeping. Still at a loss at what to do, she awkwardly put her arms around him and rubbed his back, biting her lip.

"D-don't like it here..."

"I'd be scared if you did..." Awkwardly she laid him down in the bed and put the blanket over him, sighing. She wasn't keen to get to sleep herself. For one, she wasn't sure if it had actually been a real event, or whether her head was making up things that might have happened in her memory blank at the study. Dyme was asleep the instant he was set down on the bed, emitting a soft sigh.

"You're welcome," she sighed, and sat swinging her legs off the side, seeing the skeleton again. It filled her with shivers and suddenly scared, she crept in beside him and pulled the covers over her head. He seemed to be calmed by her, subconsciously moving towards the warmth. She didn't sleep but coiled up, crammed in the small shared space. Heart pounding in fluccuating stress, it was not helped when suddenly a loud klaxon noise sounded at deafening levels and made her scream in shock. Dyme too screamed and sat up, trembling, heart pounding audibly. "Wh-wha-!"

"_Good morning children! The time is 4:50 am, and it is looking to be a beautiful day! You're old man's going to be coming to get you ready for the day in ten minutes, so make sure you've made your bed, cleaned up any toys, and used the bathroom super quick to make yourselves look presentable for your Dad. See you in ten... oops, make that eight! Haha haa-_"

Arlene was still shaking from the wake up call, and glanced at Dyme in sudden dread. "W-we'd better c-clean up," he stammered, hastily sliding out of bed.

"W... what about the skeleton?"

Dyme's face turned chalk white. "Sh-should we just...p-put it back?"

"I don't know..." She shivered and stepped over it timidly, stared at it, then peeked into the bathroom. "The toilet's available."

"I'm okay, you go."

She took him up on that offer, and when out again she once again pondered about the skeleton. "... i-it's not our fault... right?"

"_Three minutes, children!_"

"It isn't...there's no way..." Dyme hastily combed his fingers through his hair and found he was able to peel some dried muck off of his shirt.

"We still have to make the b..." Arlene paused, something hitting her. "... oh my God: we're actually trying to please this guy by doing what he orders."

"We have to," Dyne replied, voice shaking with self-loathing. "We...we're _powerless._"

"But..."

"_I'm heading over to greet you, kids!_"

Footsteps grew louder outside the door. Dyme's eyes flashed wide as he shook in fear. Arlene slipped her hand into his, pale. The door was flung open, and Ian stood there, Ricky at his side looking sheepish and sickly. "Good morning David and Emily, my two newest little treasures! How did you sleep?"

Dyme was shaking so hard he could hardly stand. "F-fine," he said with a smile.

"And Daddy's little angel?"

"Fine... Dad."

"Great! Oh, and I see you found Penny! We've been looking for her for years now!" Ian peered past the two teens to the skeleton. "Ricky go get that for me. Very well done: I wondered why this place had a terrible stink a few months ago." Ricky shuffled into the room and threw them both a nervous smile before picking up the skeleton and then carrying it out.

Dyme's mouth fell open at the cheery exclamation. "P...Penny?" _No...it couldn't be her...her name would be different...she's taller..._ All the same, Dyme swayed dangerously, looking as though he would both faint and be sick.

"Something the matter, David?" Dyme shook his head numbly. "Good, because I'm going to give you both your chores today. But first, because you were such good children last night, I've bought you some new clothes to wear. No children of mine are going to dress in such rags. Follow me."

Dyme nervously looked at Arlene before turning back to Ian and nodding. Arlene still clutched Dyme's hand as they followed after the man. It appeared Keith had been waiting on the wall in the corridor and followed behind, gun in his hand. Obviously making a run for it wasn't an idea worth trying. Ian led them up some stairs, and into a large walk-in wardrobe. There were a variety of clothes; some of which still on the skeletons who had originally owned them, propped up like dummies in a shop window. At the sight of them, Dyme completely lost his composure and fainted, slightly green.

"Oh dear," Ian tutted sadly, stepping over him and promptly moving onto the matter of what 'Emily' should wear. "Oh I have this lovely little camisole and leggings that look to be your size; try them on, dear."

She didn't want to argue, now somewhat 'alone' what with Dyme unconscious. Shaking, she took them with a whispered 'thank you', then looked around for somewhere to change. "... where-"

"Right here. Where we can watch and make sure you aren't about to do anything silly."

The blood drained from her face. "... here...? Right... here...?"

"Would you like your big brother Keith to leave the room?"

"... I-i..."

"Come on now, Emily. I'm your father. I won't hurt you. I'm doing this for your protection. Now... are you going to get changed, or do I have to strip you myself?"

That last remark genuinely scared her. Not sure what choice she had, Arlene bit her lip and shuffled so she was facing mostly away from Ian's unblinking gaze. Shaking, she nervously pulled the leggings on under her nightie, then grabbed the hem of her grubby clothing to pull it off over her head. She glanced over her shoulder. He was still watching. Shuddering, she decided to just make it as quick as possible and whipped off the nightie, lunging for the camisole and yanking it on over her head. It had only taken about two-three seconds but still she felt sick and violated, and hugged herself.

"... will I have to do this often...?"

"Oh at least twice a day," Ian 'assured' her.

Dyme began to stir, instantly mumbling groggy words of apology as he tried to get to his feet, still extremely dizzy. "Awwww... David's a sleepy one isn't he? Oh David: wakey wakey, lazy bones!"

Dyme forced a shuddering laugh and a weak smile. "I-it won't happen again."

"Gooood. Here, try these on." Ian tossed him some jeans, then wrestled a dark shirt off a skeleton. Once it was off, he wafted it to get the skin and bone dust out, before handing it over smiling. "Well, let's see you in them."

Dyme tried hard not to gag as he held the shirt. "A-all right..." He looked around for a place to change as Arlene had done, feeling a sinking in his stomach. Arlene gave him a despairing look then turned her head away for the sake of giving him privacy. Far from the other two.

"Well hurry it up, son. Get dressed."

An icy lurch went through Dyme before he quickly stripped off his shirt. His body looked simply painful-stomach concave, ribs sticking out, skin stretched to an unhealthy slight hourglass. He quickly pulled on the other shirt and changed his pants, giddy with nerves. Arlene kept her gaze away, fiddling with her hands. Ian, however, caught the condition he was in and strode forward, concerned. "... Keith, make them some breakfast. A good breakfast, no cutting corners this time."

Dyme felt ill at the smell of the shirt and took in a deep breath through his mouth to feel better. At the mention of Keith, he looked fearfully at the man. He was quite frightening... Catching the look, Keith glared right back, but obediently slunk off back down the stairs. Ian, meanwhile, was striding over. "Well don't you two look better already? You're cleaner, tidier, and soon you'll have the best our kitchen can offer." He grabbed Arlene's wrist as he passed, making her squeak but she followed as he went to pat Dyme's head. "I feel like we're a family already."

"Y-yeah," Dyme said, smiling widely but still looking faint. Nervous in case she wasn't being 'happy' enough, Arlene nodded and forced out a giddy "You're a much better father than my old fath-"

Ian promptly smacked her around the face, and had he not been holding her up by the wrist, she'd have crumpled with a cry. His eyes were suddenly bright with anger. "I am the only father you have ever had, and if you _ever_ think differently, you'll be going back to the study, is that clear Emily?"

She held her face with a shaking hand, a single tear of pain breaking free. "Y-y... y-y-ye-sss, D-dad..."

Dyme gasped in shock and started forwards to help Arlene, just barely stopping himself in time. "It was an accident," Dyme whispered. "It just slipped out, it wasn't her fault."

"Are you challenging me, David?" The voice was low and controlled, but still powerful.

"...yes." He knew he was about to be in some very deep trouble, but he couldn't just stand by. Ian merely struck Arlene again, not even looking at her but just gazing at Dyme in challenge. Dyme looked taken aback before he stepped forwards, gripping onto the wrist that had smacked Arlene. "Stop it." With ease, Ian twisted his arm and reversed the grip of the wrist so it was he holding Dyme's. He then proceeded to force Dyme to punch Arlene repeatedly in the face. Two birds, one stone: punishment for daring suggest she had ever had a different father, and punishment for speaking out without permission. Dyme gasped in shock, pulling back in horror the second he realized what was happening. He scrabbled at Ian's arm, trying to find some way not to hit Arlene, who had sunk to her knees, nose bloodied and bruises already building, and still she yelped at each hit, trying to block with her free hand. Ian just casually kept it up, seemingly oblivious to Dyme's attempts, then asked calmly, "I'd like an apology, you two."

Shaking in hatred and anger and nausea, Dyme looked down, unable to meet Ian's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"S...sorry..." Arlene echoed, near tears and face very sore. Ian instantly let them go and folded his arms. "You are forgiven. Now... breakfast?" Suddenly his tone was bright and loving and he patted them both on the head before turning and striding to the door. "Mmmm, smells good!"

Dyme doubled over the moment he turned away, silently screaming as he had done the night before, tears spilling down his face. At once Arlene pulled him down to kneel with her and hugged him, more in need of one herself than thinking if he might want one.

"Aw. It's so nice when brothers and sisters get along," Ian remarked gently upon seeing them. Dyme hugged her as if it was the answer to everything, ignoring Ian's remark. It was at this point when Ricky entered with a polite knock. Upon seeing them hugging and near tears, he glanced at Ian.

"Emily fell down the stairs and gave David a bit of a scare," Ian explained. Ricky somehow doubted that was the case but didn't dare challenge that and merely said, "breakfast is ready."

"Great. Come on kids, follow me and your big brother to the kitchen. I'd hate for you to get lost. Besides, you haven't met your other brothers yet."

Dyme grasped Arlene's hand firmly and helped pull her to her feet, keeping a hold on it. He didn't want to let her go for a even second. Shaken and still in pain, she cradled her face with her other palm and kept her head bowed, already obsessing about how ugly she must look now. Her face just felt completely numb. Ricky saw she was in pain and as Ian took the lead, he pulled a tissue out of his sleeve quickly, gave her face a two second wipe, then pecked her forehead. "You look lovely, don't worry."

"Ricky."

"Coming, Dad! C'mon you two, don't keep him waiting..." Nervously Ricky put a palm on each other their backs and gently ushered them along.

They were led to a cramped kitchen-dining room. Most of the space was taken up by a reasonably-sized table. Ian was sat at the head. Keith was laying plates of vegetables, meats and nibbles about. Each place at the table had its own tiny plate of toast and butter, and its own egg cup complete with egg. Despite the state of the room, it did smell quite appetising. Aside from Keith, there were three other boys all younger than Arlene and Dyme: they looked to be about seven to ten years old. Dyme was shocked at how young they were, but he managed to weakly smile at them, not daring to make a sound.

"James, Leo, Tuck; this is your new brother and sister. This is David and Emily." Ian explained happily to the children. The boys looked up at them, silent. They looked like rabbits caught in the headlights, and just as timidly grunted a greeting before averting their gaze and huddling together. Ignoring their nerves, Ian chuckled and explained, "They arrived last month. Such good little boys, aren't you? Come on, sit down, your food will get cold." Ricky guided them to a chair each, then took his own beside the three children, smiling weakly at them all.

_That could be us in a month,_ Dyme thought with a thrill of fear as he took his seat. Despite how hungry he was, his stomach didn't make a noise - perhaps it too was scared into silence. As Keith finally took his seat, Ian tapped a spoon on his egg cup for their attention. The others all instantly locked onto him, knowing any sign of neglect would result in a visit to that dreaded room.

"Let's give our two new arrivals a warm welcome into our happy family. And boys, please bear in mind we now have a young lady among us, so please remember to start putting the seat down, and to mind your manners." Arlene cringed as everyone glanced at her then back at Ian. "Well, let's not let our food get cold. Everyone thank your big brother for cooking this for us."

"Thank you Keith," James, Leo, Tuck and Ricky droned. Arlene echoed in a mumble. Dyme's reply was barely existent as he looked down at the table. He kept as quiet as possible in hopes of not being sent to the study room - from what he could tell, he was the only one who hadn't been there. And he planned to keep it that way.

As Ian invited them to eat, Arlene at first was reluctant. But she was so hungry, and it was so well made, she was soon eating all she could get her hands on, and Ian seemed delighted to let her have seconds. Dyme was quite reluctant as well, but as it was, he needed it more than Arlene. As he ate, he realized a pain he'd forgotten was there was receding-hunger. He had grown so used to starvation that he was immune to it...mostly. Energy he hadn't had in months began to fill him, and his general mood was better. The food seemed to keep coming, and Keith, for once seemed in a good mood simply because his efforts were appreciated. However, finally the kitchen was bare and Ian rose. The boys all sat up. "Well, after that lovely breakfast, it's time you little rascals all got to work. Ricky, go take the new arrivals downstairs and explain their chores to them. Keith, take your younger siblings down to get started."

And with that, Ian mysteriously left in a hurry. Ricky grinned and got up, gesturing for them to get out of their seats and rubbed his hands together, "well, busy busy busy!"

Dyme weakly smiled. "What do we need to do?" He felt safer speaking with Ian gone.

"Well, unfortunately because you two are the newbies, you'll be cleaning," Ricky grimaced. "I'll just get you your aprons and gloves, then show you were the supplies are. It's simple enough, but Dad is very particular about cleanliness in the work room."

As he spoke he led them down the stairs. Arlene still stayed close to Dyme, but felt better being with Ricky; he seemed the most lax of the group. "The working room?"

"It's best you don't ask too many questions about it..."

Dyme squeezed Arlene's hand, but a nasty feeling rose in his gut. "We won't give you any trouble. Don't worry."

"I trust you," Ricky actually stopped and smiled at them. Then his face fell as his eyes flicked to Arlene. "... I'd like to give you some ice for your face first though... is that all right?"

"... will you get in trouble for it?"

"Only if Dad sees. But he'll be busy in the study for an hour or so. It'll be fine."

"... thank you," Arlene smiled. Ricky grinned back and beckoned them into a small pantry just a little further down the corridor. Dyme swallowed at the sight of the pantry but entered it anyways, feeling shame at the thought of hurting Arlene. Once inside, Ricky sat them both down on a wooden bench, then rummaged in the dim light until he found the freezer hidden behind some disused junk. Rumaging inside, he found a solitary ice cube. Apologising for such a poor finding, still he crouched and asked where it hurt most. Once he had his answer he soothed the pain by running the ice cube over, until it was melted and left his hand pink and wet.

"That's the best I can do... sorry..."

"Thank you."

Dyme had cringed back sadly at Ricky icing Arlene's face, but nearly shot forwards when he felt spiderweb. "S-seem to be a few spiders here." He was disuising a question as a statement in hopes of getting information.

Ricky also seemed nervous at that, but cleared his throat. "Well, we are underground... unfortunately we get used to them..." A pause. "... We shouldn't be talking. Come on." He gestured for them to follow him out to the small stock room where the cleaning supplies were kept.

"I see," Dyme said in a small voice. He wished Ricky hadn't picked up on his subtle question; he had intended to ask about the lack of music. He thought sadly back to the stolen cello at his home that would be destroyed by now...subconsciously, he began to hum quietly to himself, remembering a song he sang to his brother.

Ricky didn't seem to mind, and simply led them into the room, handing them aprons and gloves. "Okay, the other boys will be handling the machinery, because they're experienced in working it. As they work, the machinery needs to be kept greased and all oil spillages need mopping up ASAP... just be careful, don't lose attention..." He seemed almost sad now. "... I had another brother two weeks ago. It was my turn to do the cleaning. He was only little, he was excited to fill in for me while I was ill..." He trailed off. "... just be careful around those machines."

Dyme exchanged nervous glances with Arlene before nodding a Ricky. "O...okay..."

"Good. Now... look after each other. You're my little brother and sister. I'll be really gutted if either of you get hurt, okay?"

Arlene tilted her head. "... you're nice, Ricky."

"Heh... well... I just do what I can. But I have to go. Have fun you two! Work room is just through that door down the hall." He pointed it out to them, then gave them both a hug before stalking off.

Arlene turned to Dyme. "... what do you suppose the 'work room' is?"

Dyme found himself wishing the hug had lasted longer as he waved after Ricky. "I dunno...but I've a feeling it's not good..."

"Well..." A sigh. "We'd better get moving and get this over with, before Ian punishes us." She took the lead. The closer they got to the doors, the louder the sound of machines got. Nervously pushing through, Arlene paused, then walked in. Stamping crushers, conveyour belts, lifts and plunges... She nervously approached one pounding machine and gasped. "... it's... it's printing money..."

Dyme paled at seeing the large machines, already imagining the gruesome ways the young boy could have died. When Arlene pointed out the money, Dyme gasped as well. "That's just...!"

"Is that why we're here?" she hissed over the roar of the machines. "... we're being used as little criminals?"

"We're _slaves._" His voice shook with disgust.

"... But... but this might mean there's more chance someone will come looking," Arlene tried to be hopeful. A hand clamped on her shoulder and squeezed, making her squeak and jump.

"Trust me, kid," Keith chuckled in her ear. "We've been at this for 20 years. It's the family business, after all. No one will find us. You can rest assured on that."

Dyme moved closer to Arlene protectively, doing his best not to glare at Keith. "You've gone twenty years without being found _yet._ Who knows about a year from now, one week, tomorrow, even five hours from now?"

Arlene still had her back partially turned to him, so could not see Keith's eyes flicker to her and the vague grimace: it was true, they hadn't realised not only was she some wealthy heiress, but turned out both of them had been talking to a security guard minutes before they were... 'acquired'... but no one would look here. No, they'd be safe.

"I'd like to think Dad knows what he's doing, kid." He lightly shoved her away to Dyme then strolled off, calling, "Get to work."

Dyme chose this opportunity to glare at Keith's back, but it slipped into an expression of tired defeat. He looked at Arlene and squeezed her hand. "Let's go."

Anxiously, she picked up the bucket of warm soapy water she had been given and looked around. One of the fast moving pistons beside them was smeared with greasy marks. "... we're seriously expected to clean here? It's a death trap!"

"We'll have to be fast," Dyme murmured, ignoring what looked like bone fragments nearby them. "Really fast." He looked at Arlene. "If you're scared, don't think about what's scaring you _too_ much. Use the-adrenaline, I think-to your advantage. Saved my life before."

"... Scared... I'm not scared..." she mumbled, voice quivering regardless. She picked up a soapy cloth from the bucket and whimpered at the machine. Then did a half-second splat of soapy water on it before retracting her hand squealing, despite nothing happening.

"Fear isn't always a weakness," Dyme told her, pulling out another soapy cloth and walking up to the piston. He began to clean it a little more effectively than she. "C'mon, we'll have to learn."

She didn't like the 'have to' of that. She didn't want to be here. However, for the sake of having nowhere to run to, she stood beside him and copied him, managing only to flinch once or twice before sticking it out. "See? We're doing good," Dyme encouraged her as the pistons began to lose their greasy splotches.

"Y-yeah..." She decided to be brave and get her own piston to clean, though stayed close in case something horrible happened. She could hear Keith shouting at someone. Probably one of the other boys. "... I feel sorry for those kids..."

"Me too," Dyme said sadly. "I thought we'd be the youngest here, but..." He dropped his voice a little more so only Arlene could hear it. "Our families weren't exactly loving...but what about them?"

"They looked spooked... completely spooked. I swear they hardly blinked."

"I wonder how many times they went to the study."

Arlene shivered, much like Ricky had done upon the mention of that place, but she could hardly remember why. "Let's just focus on staying OUT of it."

"Will do." Dyme was getting faster at cleaning the pistons and was already on his third. Arlene was still taking it easy, still a little nervous. She gladly left to mop up an oil spill when Keith called her over to another spot, before he sulked back to shout at the younger boys. This was probably the most work she had ever done in all of her life put together. Dyme did not like the lack of company but found himself working at a faster pace to distract himself.

After what felt like forever, a klaxon rang out and Ian's voice announced, "Lunch time!" The machines slowed down, but did not stop. Arlene was knelt holding her mop as if it were a walking stick and the owner had just collapsed. Everything ached, and she was absolutely filthy with grease and tar. Dyme's front and hands had gotten splattered with grease, but the rest of him seemed to be okay. Wiping off his hands on the cleaner of the rags, he stretched a bit, trying to help sore muscles.

Despite the name 'lunchtime', Keith merely strode over to them and dropped an apple on the floor beside Arlene, then some bread and butter for Dyme. "Enjoy. Three minute break. The toilet's working if you need it. But there's a line." He then strode away.

Dyme sighed heavily. "Take my lunch. I've days without food before and you need your energy."

She looked at the apple; it had split and bruised where Keith had dropped it... in an oil slick she'd been midway through cleaning. "... Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He wondered if a cleaning would save the apple, but the rags were both dirty. Though he needn't have bothered: it was rotten inside. Arlene got to her feet, got a blood rush then shuffled over to take it from him. She tore it in half and handed him back a piece. Dyme gave a grateful smile, not going to argue as he took a bite out of it. It tasted...off. But, it was still food.

"I don't need the bathroom... do you?"

"There's a line. No point."

They didn't have time anyway, within seconds the klaxon went off again signalling that they should return to work. Arlene grimaced. "That couldn't have been three minutes..."

"Time is a little bit of a bitch," Dyme said darkly, quickly finishing the rest of his bread before returning to work.

The next shift lasted even longer, and this time the sound of the machines was really droning and pounding in Arlene's head to the point where it hurt to think. Her feet and arms were heavy to the point where she began merely dragging the mop after her, and everything felt sluggish. When the final klaxon went, she was about ready to crash out. Dyme's arms were shaking. He dropped the filthy rags in the water bucket, panting.

"_It's so nice to see my little ones working so hard. You'll make wonderful young people when you grow up a little," _Ian's voice came proudly over the airwaves. Keith seemed to be backing out of the room; Arlene saw him just through some pipes she was kneeling near. She couldn't begin to think why he would be leaving though, until Ian's voice cooed, _"You must all be exhausted. Why don't you all take a nap?_."

And suddenly white mist filtered into the room at such a speed Arlene couldn't help but gasp... breathe it in... then promptly feel the room spinning into a gradual blackness. Dyme nearly gasped, but he instead clamped a hand over his nose and mouth, holding his breath. He dashed over to Arlene, grabbing her shoulder and shaking her desperately. She was out cold; limp and loose like a rag doll with her hair falling over her face. Dyme groaned, wasting some of the precious pure air he had left. Head pounding and lungs screaming, he let his hand fall and gasped for breath. He didn't even feel his head connecting with the floor.

* * *

><p>Arlene awoke in Keith's arms, though she wasn't aware who he was until he laid her down next to Dyme on the bed back in their room. She flinched and gasped, confused and groggy with a headache. He casually backhanded her and grunted, "shut up. You're to stay in your room until dinner is ready, then after that it's bedtime."<p>

"What happened...?"

"S'just a precaution so we can pat you down for any sneaky little things you shouldn't have that might make Dad upset." Keith turned to Dyme and flicked at his face. "Wake up."

Dyme's eyes fluttered open slightly, blinking blearily. His head was still pounding horribly, and it worsened tenfold every time he tried to think.

"You have one hour before dinner," Keith informed bluntly, not caring the state they were in. "You'll be fetched when it is time. Behave." And with that, he got up, smiled strangely at them both before scowling again, then slinking out the room, locking the door behind him. Arlene hadn't liked that smile, nor the 'patting down' thing, but she shook it off and gazed at Dyme. "Are... you okay?"

He groaned at the noise, weakly clutching his head. "Head...hurts..."

"Mine too." She flumped her face back into the pillow of the bed and sighed painfully. "What happened?"

"Filled the workroom with lots of gas...white fog-looking stuff."

Arlene groaned again and hid her face back in the pillow, clutching it.

"Bet they can do it in any room, too..." She lazily put a hand over his mouth, silently telling him to shut up and stop saying such things. He huffed through it but got the message, falling silent. He felt as tired as he had at the end of the work. "I don't think I can get up... Can you?"

Dyme weakly shook his head. "Uh-uh."

She sighed and decided not to bother trying, instead opting to lay and talk. "... at least we're not dead, yeah?"

"Yeah." Though a small part of him disagreed.

"... I miss my real dad."

"I wish I could say the same."

"You really think this guy is a better dad?"

"No, I just never knew my father. I _can't_ miss him...but...I do much prefer my mother to here..."

Arlene nodded and rolled to face him. It was about all she could manage. "... It's not even the money I miss about him. I... I actually miss HIM, and my mom... They... protected me, y'know?"

"Yeah," Dyme said softly. "My mother was...she was all right when she was sober."

"... I've... forgotten my name again," Arlene admitted after a pause.

"It's Arlene."

"Oh, thanks." She closed her eyes, repeating it a few times before opening them again. "I hope that doesn't become a habit. That would suck."

"Maybe associating it with a colour would help?"

"Say wha?"

"Like, whenever you see a colour, think 'Arlene' until it's reflex...and then maybe you'll associate it with yourself so your identity isn't lost."

"... is that possible? It sounds a little dumb." The girl bit her lip, thinking it over a little though deciding yes, it did sound dumb. Dyme shrugged. "It might not work, but it's worth a shot."

"... what would your colour be?"

"...blue. Like the ocean, maybe."

"Do you like the ocean?" _Have you even seen one?_ she felt like asking, but decided against it. She was too tired to be bitter and mocking. Dyme nodded.

"A lot. I've got really vague memories of it from when I was young."

"It's never been anything too special for me but then I usually live in a quiet seaside villa. When you see it every day, it just gets dull."

"Ah, yeah..." Dyme looked up at the ceiling sleepily. A strange, awkward silence fell over them both, each realising their chatter was idle and trying to avoid talking about their current situation. Arlene bit her lip, feeling the pillow warm against her cheek, before deciding she preferred talking to silence.

"What was your brother like? The one you spoke about."

Dyme smiled warmly at the memory of his brother. "He was really sweet. He never complained about the life we had. He was so gentle."

"... I was supposed to have a little sister."

"Supposed to?"

"She came out in bits." It was bluntly yet casually said, as if Arlene were commenting on an unsatisfactory meal. Dyme's stomach gave a horrible lurch.

"I'm sorry..."

"Sorry?" Arlene frowned sleepily. "Why? My parents didn't seem to mind. I wasn't allowed a say in it or not, so it was none of my business."

"It's just.." Dyme thought back to his bond with his brother. "...never mind." He shook his head. Another awkward still. Another fidget, and then Arlene made another attempt to break the silence.

"What's it like having siblings?"

"For some, it's a nuisance, others take it for granted. But it's this wonderful, unbreakable sense of having someone there that will understand you and always love you."

She thought about it, then sighed. "... I don't have anyone like that."

"You do now."

Not catching his drift, she folded her arms and muttered, "I refuse to be Ian's daughter. I don't want to be. Keith creeps me out, I don't want him for a brother. But Ricky's nice... Ricky's kind to us."

"Arlene, I didn't mean them."

"But we barely got to talk to the other thre... oh..."

Dyme smiled a little. "You don't have to be related to someone to be family and I don't mean being forced into it."

"But... Ian _wants_ us to become siblings. I'm not sure I want to do _anything_ he wants."

Dyme bit his lip. "He's completely bastardized any meaning of 'family'."

"... I can't... remember their faces... Why can't I... I just want to remember them..." Arlene curled up a little and held her head, shaking it.

"If we escape, you might be able to get a doctor or something to help...and even seeing your family might work." Dyme was trying hard to sound positive. She sniffed and nodded. Then turned to face him again, eyes worried. "... I guess what's really worrying me is... if they don't want me back."

"They will," he reassured her.

"How would you know?"

"I don't know. But we can't think negatively."

"... you're right." She forced a smile, even if it looked pained and pathetic. "Something will turn up. Then we'll get out of here, and find a way home, and everything will be great again."

"Of course." Dyme smiled back, but it too was pained. "...wish I knew what time it was."

"Maybe the reason for no clocks is so we can't second-guess the routine here. Maybe he doesn't want us to know when and where we'll be unguarded, and for how long."

"That would make sense. And I bet it's to disconnect us from the outside world."

"Must be why the lights in the bedroom never turn off when we sleep. For all we know it could be dawn right now." She groaned: thinking hurt right now. Thinking of their circumstances hurt doubly so.

"Yeah." Dyme rubbed his temples. "...I wonder if we'll be gassed constantly."

"I don't even want to think what's in that stuff." She shivered, then cast her mind back to see if she could remember anything. It was while she was thinking that she noticed something unsettling. "... Our clothes have been changed." Sure enough, she was now wearing a modest summer dress; not the camisole and the leggings Ian had made her wear. Dyme looked down at himself-he was now in a grey button-up shirt that smelled of dust and dark black pants. "...that's so creepy..."

Arlene shuddered harder now. "I'm getting a bad feeling about this... well... worse than before."

"Me too," Dyme agreed, looking down.

"It was Keith who was here... If it was Ricky, maybe I wouldn't feel so... worried about this... but... but I don't like Keith. He worries me."

"He worries me too. I wish we could fight back. This is wrong."

The girl played with the dress in partial curiosity and partial dread. Finally she asked quietly, as if afraid of being overheard, "what can we do?"

"Ian's the only one with control over Keith, but I have a feeling he wouldn't care."

"We don't even know what's happening here."

There was a knock at the door. At once Arlene sat bolt upright, then groaned as her head span. Dyme was foolish enough to try to stand and instead collapsed back halfway on the bed, feeling awful nausea. Getting no answer, there was a hurried scrambling of the door being unlocked and Ricky entered, looking worried. He blinked then sighed sadly upon seeing them in such a state. He was holding one of the three younger boys in a piggyback. As he locked the door behind him, he then went to sit on the bed with them and put the other boy down.

"The gas made me feel a bit icky the first time too. Would you like some medicine? I was just on my way to get poor Leo some: he's never reacted so good to the gas. I was passing by and thought I'd check on you two."

Dyme blinked sluggishly. "Y...yeah...what kind of gas is that?" He'd forgotten the no-questions rule.

Ricky didn't seem to mind. He just pulled a face and shook his head. "I'm not sure. But you get used to it... or... uh... most of us do." He glanced nervously at Leo, then patted the boy's back as the poor thing coughed feebly. "Can I leave him here while I get the medicine? I'll be less likely to get caught if I'm alone."

"Of course." Dyme looked at Leo, smiling reassuringly while Arlene kept her eyes on Ricky in a partial wariness. Ricky smiled gratefully and got up to get the medicine. After he was gone, Arlene gazed at Leo. The boy looked tiny there, scrunched up in a tight, sickly ball. He was shaking and grey. His hair was thinning.

"Hello Leo... I'm Arl-Emily."

"I've seen you," the boy wheezed, making her blink.

"... Well we met at breakfast, I guess but we didn't get a cha-"

"No. No, you were on the TV. I saw you. They're looking for you." He suddenly gasped, then put his hands over his mouth whimpering. He shouldn't have said that. Dyme had gone over to comfort Leo but froze at his words. He looked over at Arlene, eyes wide. There could be hope! He looked down at the poor boy, rubbing his back. "This conversation didn't happen to us."

Leo just looked as if he was surrounded by demons. "He's always watching, always listening. It's how he gets you." With a whimper, he then entirely clamped up and curled into a tighter, smaller ball. Arlene didn't know what to say or do, and just nervously patted his head. _So there must be security cameras._ A sickly feeling rolled through the teenagers. "I-it'll be okay." Leo didn't seem keen to say anything else. Arlene glanced at Dyme with a 'what do we do?' look. Dyme just looked helpless as he tried to comfort the boy.

Ricky returned a matter of seconds later, he looked flustered but smiled for the children's sakes. "Dad spoke to me, but he didn't ask what I was doing. Here." He sat back on the bed and offered Leo the first teaspoon of the honey-looking mixture. However, Leo whimpered and recoiled from it. "I know it's bad, but it will help," Ricky said gently, stroking Leo's fraying hair and pushing the spoon to his lips. The boy took it without argument but started coughing hoarsely once it was swallowed. Ricky poured another spoonful and beckoned Dyme closer. "This is gonna taste nasty, but bear with it," before putting it to his lips. Dyme took a breath in as he swallowed but nothing could have prepared him for that. He couldn't control his gag, forcing himself to swallow the gorge in his throat. "Give it a couple of minutes, and you'll start to feel a little sleepier, but once that passes, you'll feel as good as new." Ricky smiled at him before turning to Arlene. "You next, sis."

"I think I'll pass... I'm not feeling too sick, just tired."

Ricky eyed her, debating whether she was lying or telling the truth, before he put the lid back on the bottle and set it down. Carefully, he pulled Leo onto his lap and rocked him as he started a conversation, "how are you both after today?"

"I-I'm okay," Dyme lied, trying hard to smile.

"It was... different," Arlene added, starting off happy but ending uncertain and depressed. Ricky sighed, still cradling little Leo.

"It'll take some time. I know it's hard. But it'll be great! We're a family now, and I'll do whatever it takes to look after my little bros and sis."

"This isn't a family." Dyme looked shocked after he spoke, hand half-raised to his mouth as if to cover it.

Ricky looked somewhat hurt by that, but forced a smile and tried to hide the sadness in his eyes. "...you'll see... I... I should have known it was a bit soon to start getting too close... I'm sorry... you're still settling... man, I'm such an idiot."

Arlene bit her lip. "You're nice but... but I don't think you understand, Ricky... we're sorry."

Dyme nodded, looking wretched. "S'just hard."

"I... I understand..." He still looked heartbroken, but he turned his attention to Leo and with care, stroked the boys side to soothe him. "... heh... little guy's already falling asleep... bless." Dyme looked even guiltier and hid his face in his knees, new depression rising up inside of him. "David? What's wrong, lil bro?"

"Feel bad..."

Ricky said nothing but handed Leo over to Arlene, then pulled Dyme onto his lap to cuddle and rub his arm soothingly. "It'll get better. I promise." He felt no revulsion and did not recoil, simply hugging Ricky back and trying hard to hold back tears. Having never held someone in such a way before, Arlene watched carefully in the meantime, then looked down at Leo, before experimenting a hug on him. Ricky smiled at her but continued holding Dyme. "I know everything seems bad right now... but I love you all, okay? I won't let anything bad happen to you. Even if I'm the one who gets in trouble with Dad."

"You shouldn't suffer for us," Dyme mumbled.

"It's what big brothers do, no matter what Keith says."

Arlene was still cuddling Leo but now she spoke up. "Ricky, why are you and Keith so different?"

"Because we're human, Emily. It's natural. I love Keith how he is, even with all his anger problems."

Dyme fidgeted uncomfortably. Could they tell Ricky about their suspicions with Keith? Feeling the fidget, Ricky him go and smiled, patting his shoulder. "You'll be all alright, guys. I promise."

Dyme nodded sleepily, looking down at the floor. Arlene reached over and patted the teen's shoulder. Smiling at that, Ricky carefully took Dyme off his lap then got to his feet, picking up Leo and the bottle of medicine. "I should go: Dad gets mad when we go in each other's rooms without his permission. I'll see you at dinner time. Love you lots."

"See you," Dyme whispered.

Ricky left with a smile and the door was locked behind him.

Once alone again, Arlene sighed and then practiced her new-found cuddling on Dyme, more for her own comfort than his. Dyme tiredly cuddled back against her, on the brink of sleep and wakefulness.

"... maybe Ricky will help us get away, if we can explain to him."

"He's so devoted to here, though."

"But he seems to want to help." Dyme just blinked sleepily. Arlene pulled back to get a look at him. "... you're about to fall asleep, aren't you?"

A nod. "Mmh."

"Heh, sleep, idiot." She laid him in the bed, then got up to find something to do. Dyme was dead asleep in a heartbeat. She watched him for a few seconds before deciding to hope beyond all hope and start patting the walls and floor, looking for any way out, any clues, anything _new_ that might catch her attention for even a second. She didn't hear the door unlocking until she was scooped up screaming in surprise.

Dyme bolted upright and got as quickly as possible to his feet, collapsing from a head rush. Before he could even hit the floor, another pair of arms snatched him up giving him an upside down view of Keith grinning as he dragged Arlene by the ankle along the floor and out of the room. Ian himself looked far from impressed, clutching Dyme in a less than kind way. "I give you food. I give you water. I give you tasks to better yourselves. I give you a home. I give you love. Only to find my sons and daughter have been disrespecting me when they think I can't hear. I cannot let such bad behaviour go unpunished. I am your _father_, and by _God _I will make sure you never forget it."

"Wha..." Dyme's eyes widened as he realized what Ian was talking about and he began to struggle violently, fear racing through him. Arlene's cries and screams sounded far off now, but they went ignored by Ian, who dragged Dyme bodily out of the room and behind Keith with Arlene.

"No, not there again, don't make me go there, I love you Daddy I love you please don't make me go!" Arlene was sobbing hysterically, voice cracking in pleading. Ian ignored her and took them upstairs to 'the room'. Dyme's nails scrabbled against Ian as he twisted and writhed violently, kicking and punching and even biting to be free. However, it was to no avail, and giving up, he began drilling thoughts into his head. _I am Dyme. Dyme is blue. I am Dyme. Dyme is blue. I have a brother. He is blue..._

Ricky was already there, cowering in a corner, locked in place. He was whiter than snow, and his huge, wide and terrified eyes were shining through his fingers with tears as he held his face. Leo was strapped to a chair, hyperventilating against a gag, despite nothing happening to him.

Keith hoisted Arlene up and slung her over his shoulder as he threw Ian a grin and took her through another door, still screaming and crying. Ian followed after, dumping Dyme on the floor as Keith came back out to guard him. The new door slammed shut and locked. The room beyond was soundproof, leaving no hint as to where Arlene had just been taken and what was happening.

Dyme completely panicked, thrashing to the point where he actually hurt himself now. He began screaming out things even he wasn't aware of; something about families, and how his name was Dyme, and what were they doing to Arlene, parents don't treat their children this way. Keith watched him, slowly advancing with a predatoral grin. "Shhhhhhhhh, kid... we're going to make it aaalllllll better. Ain't that right, Rick?"

Ricky babbled under his breath then whimpered. He still hadn't blinked. There came a loud desperate thud against the door to the secret room, a brief scrabble, then silence again. Keith was still advancing on Dyme.

"Stay away from me! _STAY AWAY FROM ME!"_ Dyme's voice reached an incredible pitch, even making himself flinch as he scrambled backwards from Keith, whites of his eyes completely standing out in terror.

"Aw c'mon, bro! I just wanna hug! This is your first time here! A hug will fix you right up!"

Insults laced with expletives exploded from Dyme as his back hit a wall, turning him stark white. Keith knew the power he had. He was stronger, bigger and in way more control than Dyme was. And he knew Dyme knew that. To add further trauma, Keith merely did exactly as he said and pulled Dyme into a tight hug, giving him no room to escape, and merely petted him cruelly. "Whassa matter, kid? I play niiiice." Stroke. Stroke. "I'm not the big bad wolf! I'm here to look after you!"

Dyme began to scream, tears streaming down his face as he tried to thrash but couldn't, eventually falling limp and shaking from head to toe. Murmuring against his ear, Keith was trying hard not to laugh. "Hey, little man... shhhh... I'm right here... shhhhhhhhh..." His hand was still stroking Dyme's face and hair... well, more caressing now, but still he did nothing else but smirk and keep up his deliberately 'casual' cuddle. "Isn't this nice, huh...? Just youuuu, and meeeee. And hey, don't worry: I'll be sure to give Emily the same treatment when she's back. Poor thing will be very tired. Might even sleep soundly for hours, no matter what I do to wake her... she certainly didn't wake up last time."

Dyme froze for a second, letting Keith's words seep in before he brokenly began to weep, not even cringing away from the disturbing touching, all hope completely crushed under the weight of horror and depression.

_Ah, the power of lies: what sweet music it inspires..._

Voice still a low murmur, Keith mused through a smirk on Dyme's ear; "just remember I'm the eldest son. I'm Dad's favourite. And I get what I want. Okay?"

Dyme just continued to sob, trembling and shaking his head. _It's not true, it's not true, it can't be true..._

Pleased the damage was done, Keith pecked Dyme's cheek and held onto him until Ian was finished. The first that was apparent was when Arlene was dragged out by her hair. She was conscious, but looked as if she had seen a ghost. Or a demon. She spasmed every few seconds or so. She wasn't blinking. Her scalp was drenched in sweat. Her breathing was hoarse and raspy. She was bleeding from various places.

"David's turn."

Dyme flinched away at the peck, whimpering. At the sound of his 'name,' he weakly began to protest, shaking his head and crying, begging, pleading with the others to help him but it was no use. Without a word, Ian simply plucked Dyme up as if he was nothing and hauled him over to the dreaded heart of the study. Keith just smirked after him, caught his gaze and casually put a hand on Arlene's leg, rubbing it slowly whilst still grinning cruelly at Dyme. "Enjoy your education, little brother: I'll wait for you with Emily right here."

Dyme simply cried harder, weak and shaking and sick-feeling. "Arlene...l-leave Arlene alone...leave her a-alone!"

The door slammed shut between them before the last words could leave his mouth. Ian slung him to the floor. There were small smears of blood there. Towering over him, Ian unfastened his belt, then held it ready to use as a whip. "Lay on our stomach, or it will hurt a lot more than I want it to." Dyme stared up at Ian with huge eyes, recoiling. There was no way he was going to do anything this man wanted.

Ian sighed, as if greatly frustrated he was being disobeyed and merely thrashed the belt down, catching Dyme in the face and already making a slice on his cheek from the buckle. Dyme cried out loudly, clutching at the gash. "I _don't_ want to hurt you. Roll. Over. It will be less painful."

The terrified boy shakily rolling over, feeling sick to his stomach.

It was a short beating, but nonetheless it was relentless. A mere ten seconds later, Ian put his belt back on and pulled Dyme up by his upper arm, putting him on a chair and using his crying and stung body as a distraction from the fact he was now entwining thin, painful wire around the chair arm and Dyme's wrists. "Struggle, and you will stop your circulation. Understand?" Dyme nodded weakly, tears still streaming down his face. Ian patted his head dismissively, as if tired of being 'nice'. He rummaged around in a desk behind Dyme, fiddling with something. "You need reminding of what I've done for you. You want to remember the pain of before? In your last life? ... fine. I've warned you. I must warn all of you over and over. I'll do it however many times it takes, because I truly love you all. I want what's best for you all." He finished rummaging and stood directly behind Dyme's chair. "I'm sorry. I do this out of love."

That said, he rammed a needle into a vein in Dyme's neck, injecting something freezing and colourless.

Dyme cried out and shivered for a second before exploding with screams, throat burning, eyes wide and flicking madly, fighting so hard not to struggle. Every horrible memory he'd ever experienced came rushing back-his mother beating his sister, his sister beating him, broken bottles cracked repeatedly over his head, tied down as his mother used him to snuff out cigarettes, running in terror from gangs, brother dead in the street, being pulled into the van...

Ian watched him with genuine sadness in his eyes, then gently called him out of the more vivid of the memories, though he was still under the influence. Protective, warm arms cradled him, his voice racked with both sympathy and a want to protect. "It's alright, son. It's alright. It was just a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare. Dad is here to make it go away. What was it, David?" That last question was voiced in a way that expected him to answer with exactly what he'd just been told it was.

Dyme was hyperventilating and wheezing so badly he could barely reply, eyes rolling back in his head. "I-it...was...a...ni...nightmare..." He gasped in a breath that sounded like a death rattle. "A...hor...rible...horrible...night...mare..."

Ian nodded and continued to hold him, squeezing him to comfort him. Trying to calm him as the more violent first-moment effects wore off, the man then hummed a gentle tune and untied Dyme's wrists from the chair, picked him up, then sat in the chair with him on his lap. "My poor little David... it's all over now. It was all made up nightmares. I won't let it ever hurt you again, try not to think about it, eh? You gotta be a big, strong boy for your father now. Haven't you?"

Dyme wheezed and nodded jerkily. "Yes, da-ad," he squeaked out, repeating the phrase over and over as he gasped for air, weakly clutching at Ian's shirt.

Ian held him a while more, then pecked his scalp. "That's my David. You must be tired. Are you tired, David?"

"Y-yes, d-dad." Gasp, wheeze.

"Let's get you back to your room with your sister, then. We'll bring dinner to you. Now, I suggest you keep quiet and think about who you are, and what you mean to me. Will you do that for me?"

Choke, cough. "Yes, d-dad."

"You're a good boy." Pleased he had done all he could to temporarily 'cure' him, Ian rose, carrying Dyme easily and re-emerging into the study. Keith was cuddling Arlene, head resting on her shoulder as she stared blankly into space. "They can go rest now. Take them back to their bedroom, then do the same for Leo. I'll deal with Ricky."

"Sure thing Dad. C'mon, sibs." Keith grinned as he easily hoisted Arlene up in one arm and took Dyme's hand to lead him back down the stairs to their room. Dyme nearly tripped several times, still gasping and coughing weakly. Finally, half-dragged back to their room, Keith spent a few seconds hugging them both in a deliberately discomforting way before leaving them locked in the room with no more than a 'I'll be back soon, kids'."

"Bye, brother," Arlene whispered, still in a daze. Dyme was still breathing as though he had run a marathon, clutching at his head and rocking back and forth. He was rambling to himself, looking quite deranged. All he wanted to do was forget all of those horrible things, all of those horrible people...he couldn't remember what his purpose was. It was slipping through his fingers like water or smoke. Arlene's experience - like before - had been so vivid her body had gone into total mental lockdown, and when it had cleared whilst Dyme had been subjected to it, her brain decided it was too painful to remember, and simply given her a nicer reality to believe in: Ian was her father, he had rescued her from a horrific nightmare, and those people she had seen within the nightmare were demons that was so cruel she couldn't bring herself to recall their faces or what they said. However, as she found calm once more, she began to vaguely recognise where she was, and who she was with. Without knowing why, she turned to the boy she was currently convinced was her brother, and on autopilot, said, "ocean" to him.

Dyme completely froze, stopped muttering, and slowly looked up. 'Ocean'...he felt as though that held significance, though he couldn't fathom why. _Ocean...ocean...ocean...o...oh..._ His body gave a great shudder as fragments were brought back to him. He couldn't remember how to play the cello, but he knew he'd had one...and he had a brother that he'd loved very much...and his name was _not_ David, and Ian was _not_ his father. He looked over at Arlene and whispered 'yellow' in hopes that she'd remember who she was at least, somewhat.

She just stared at him blankly, looking frightened yet content at the same time. "Emily," she stated with a head tilt, then laughed strangely, thinking this was a game. Dyme groaned, shaking his head and burying in his knees again. _God help us..._ He looked upwards at the ceiling, yearning for sky. _...would it be fair of me to pray only now?_ He'd remembered that he hadn't really prayed much in his lifetime, so surely it wouldn't be fair to ask for guidance now...but...it would be a comfort. Instead of going on his knees by the bedside, he simply stayed where he sat, shaking palms placed together. _Um...hey God. I guess...I know I haven't really talked to you much, but...I beg of you...send us help. Send us anything to get us out of here...be it a saviour or an opportunity or even a poorly-placed weapon. We can't go on like this...amen. I guess._

"David, what's wrong?" Arlene asked timidly, not at all her usual whiny or pessimistic pondering.

"...s'nothing, Emily." He raised his head, smiling. "I'm okay."

"... kay." She closed her eyes and snuggled up to him, sighing. "I had a bad dream, but Daddy saved me."

Dyme wrapped an arm around her. "Heh, me too."

"He's so good to us. I love him."

He didn't make a sound, but Ian was leant against their door, crying silently in pride and adoration. Pulling himself together he quietly slipped away to check on the other children.

"I love him too...I couldn't imagine a better father." This was only partially-true; Dyme's head was telling him this was true, but his heart seemed to painfully clench.

"I hope we never go home." The girl smiled, but a flicker of life came back to her clueless eyes as she realised what she'd said. Go... home...? But... this _was_ home, wasn't it...? She blinked, then scowled. A hand went to her head. "Home...? We go... we go... _back_... to home...?"

"Emily." Dyme gently put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't think too much, you'll end up with a headache." He really was just scared that Ian would throw them in the study again if they remembered things.

A slow blink. Then a dazed smile. "Emily. That's... my name... I am Emily. Hee... hee hee, sorry. I'm sleepy."

Dyme smiled and nodded encouragingly, feeling sick. "We can't sleep quite yet, Emily, dinner's soon..."

"Okay, David..." She rested her head on his chest and smiled adoringly. "Make sure I don't fall asleep. I don't want to let Daddy down."

Dyme smiled, patting her head. "'Course not, sis."

"Thank you." She smiled in genuine gratitude, though a flicker of doubt still lay in her eyes, resembling something close to confused fear.

Dyme squeezed her hand. "Should we do something until then? A game?"

"I love games!" she clapped her hands and beamed at him joyously. "What will we play?"

"What games do you like? I'm up for anything."

"Oh! Oh!" She was bouncing excitedly, laughing hard. "I wanna...! I-I wanna...!" The laughs suddenly turned to sobs, the bouncing now rocking in self-soothing... and failing. "I wanna go home...!" she rasped out tearfully, reality coming back after a desperate struggle. Dyme instantly pulled her close, biting back tears of his own as fear rose in him like a snake. "I-it's okay..."

"I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home _please_ let me go home oh God let me go home I want to go home please oh please oh please I want to please let me go home..." She was barely breathing from the hissed rambling into his shoulder, still rocking herself back and forth with hands over her face. Dyme rubbed her back soothingly, trembling a little. He didn't know what to say to make it better, not at all..._Please, God...help us..._

* * *

><p>'God' appeared to have already been on his way. Unbeknownst to them, a still traumatised and deluded Ricky was staggering numbly into the work room, armed with wrenches, spanners, pliers and a small handheld bunsen burner. As he slipped in, he muttered something dreamily about Dad working too hard, and needing a break, to spend more time with the family, and to love him even more hours of the day. When Keith came to deliver their dinner on a tray, his visit was barely three seconds before Ricky came in, seemingly much more 'sober', and informed in a pale voice and a secretive whisper to Keith that someone had sabotaged the machines. Keith was too shocked to ask questions and ran to assess the damage himself, whilst Ricky didn't seem aware at all it was his fault, and ran to Ian.<p>

While they were busy coming to terms with a halt in production, Arlene uncurled a little from Dyme, then whispered, "... so... so no cleaning tomorrow?"

"I...I don't think so." A feeling of relief floated in him like mist. "I wonder what we'll be doing instead."

Arlene shrugged at the time, but within ten minutes, everyone was summoned to the work room. And Ian sounded _livid_. Dyme was white as a sheet in fear as they walked into the work room. One part of him was horrified that anyone would do that to his wonderful loving father, another part of him was secretly cheering them on, and yet another was afraid he would be blamed. He didn't do it...did he? He had no memory of it...he couldn't have...there was no way...

Arlene shook the whole way there, and when the children were pulled roughly to stand in line, she found herself stood directly across from Keith, who was glaring hard at them all at Ian's right side. Ricky trembled on his left.

"I give. And I _give_," Ian began, voice low, barely audible, and _seething_. The three youngsters stood unflinching, but mostly because they were locked in terror. Arlene herself found the urge to whimper growing. Dyme was frozen in place, eyes wide as dinner plates and unblinking. He was hardly breathing, looking like a very life-like statue. A thousand thoughts were whirling and crashing through his heads like a turbulent storm.

Ian began to pace like a madman, ranting still in a seething tone. "I give you food. I give you shelter. I give you reason. I give you love. I gave you names. And all I ask for in return, are just a few. Simple. _Rules_." He turned on little James. "What rules would those be!"

"To love you, and respect you, and do as you say," the boy whispered in terror at once. Ian raised a fist in warning. The boy helplessly blurted out, "_And to never abuse your trust!_"

Lowering his hand again, Ian resumed pacing up and down their ranks. "Good, good. Very good. _So would someone explain why one of you has HURT ME like THIS!_"

Dyme's eyes flicked fearfully from Ian to Keith to Ricky to the other boys over and over again. He couldn't look Ian in the eye, let alone look at him as he found himself hyperventilating silently. Picking up on his panic, Ian prowled over and loomed over him, glaring. However, he knew it couldn't be 'David' or 'Emily': no; they had been taken pretty much straight from the work room to the study, with hardly any time at all to spend sabotaging machinery they had only known for one day. Ian's eyes trailed to the three youngsters.

"... I am not happy. Not happy at all, children." Arlene was too busy shaking and looking at her feet, wondering if she was going to throw up on them out of nerves. She hadn't noticed Ian pulling out a gun, aiming it, then shooting Tuck point blank in the face. The blast made her scream and jump in fright though.

"_Anyone who even looks will receive the same fate!_" Ian snarled furiously before anyone could glance at the headless corpse of the eight year old. "None of you have ever had a little brother called Tuck. He was a figment of your childish, wild and over-active imaginations. Same goes for any silly thoughts of ever disobeying me. _Understood?_

Dyme had let out a gasp, gripping onto Arlene in sheer shock as he tried to ground himself. He looked in the opposite direction of the corpse, trembling so violently he could barely stand. "U-understood," he squeaked, so quietly it almost couldn't be heard. His vision was flickering madly, making him sick to his stomach.

"You will all go back to your rooms. Tomorrow, I shall be off getting the repairs. Keith will be in charge. Ricky will be with me. I trust you can handle a few naughty children?" Ian turned to Keith. The eldest 'son' smirked, and said nothing, watching the shaking children with an easy cruelty. Taking that as a yes, Ian threw one last glare at the children, then hissed, "get them out of my sight."

Ricky moved forward to usher them back to their rooms. He was sobbing. Arlene couldn't move. She was rigid and staring dead ahead, eyes huge and unblinking. Dyme was tugged Arlene forcefully along, trying to get her as far away from Ian as possible. His legs were like jelly and he stumbled many times, often having to place a hand against the wall for support. When at last they were in their room, Dyme collapsed onto the bed, sobbing and shaking. Ricky tried to console them all, but he was in just as much a state. However, he was summoned away, and soon it was Arlene and Dyme left alone again.

Arlene had gone to be sick in the toilet, regardless of the fact it was blocked until Ian saw fit to filter the nice water through. She just about made it halfway back across the room when she fainted in a crumpled heap. Dyme stumbled over and scooped her up, bringing her over to the bed and clinging onto her as though his life depended on it, wheezing with every breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling and trying to breathe evenly.


	3. Chapter 3

Arlene awoke when the toilet gurgled and the shower came on, signalling the hour they could wash in. Too dizzy and sink from fainting and what she had seen, she didn't move a muscle and just whispered 'please', over and over. The girl stayed in place for some time, needing the presence of another. Eventually, she forced herself into movement and shuffled into the bathroom, hoping a shower would help clear her head and calm her. Dyme shifted at the lack of warmth near him, but still slept.

The digital clock read 9:02 and was still quickly ticking down, warning Arlene to hurry if she wanted to be clean. She wanted to spend at least twenty minutes in there, more cleaning her soul than her body, but the water cut out and the gurgling warned her to get out before she got disgusting gunk on her. She didn't leave though, and instead sat locked in the room wrapped in towels and staring into space to think for what felt like hours. The shower burbled out the horrific muck, but it didn't spray out ferociously as it had done before. Eventually, it shut itself off, letting the slime drain-or at least, clog the drain. After a while, she finally pulled on the handle and left the room, sitting on the bed in the towels and once more staring into nothing. She felt dead inside, like she was running on autopilot.

When Dyme awoke he was equally emotionless, sitting up silently and staring down at his hands. His brain had decided that emotion was far too stressful to be healthy and erased feelings, leaving Dyme in a flat calm.

"You're awake," Arlene stated in a quiet voice, not looking at him.

"Yes." Dyme too didn't make eye contact, voice dead and monotonous.

"... what do we do now?"

"I don't know." _Definitely not plot any more silly things like resistance._

She nodded, as if that was the correct answer. "We have the day off tomorrow. What would you like to do?"

"I don't know. I guess there are games we can play."

"And we can talk." She sighed and slumped onto her side almost beside him. Dyme stared at the wall in front of him, eyes seeming unfocused and glassy. "I'm scared. Or... I should be. I think I am. I don't know." Dyme just nodded a little, seeming out of it.

"We should get some sleep. We should be well-rested for tomorrow."

"Well rested for what? There's nothing we can do tomorrow."

"We don't know what might happen."

"... Leo said they were looking for me."

Dyme nodded. "Yeah." _I hope they find us._ Instead of taking the risk of conveying this through words, he merely squeezed Arlene's hand.

"... someone cares about me outside of here..." the way she said it made it sound like she had no idea who that 'someone' was. But the words themselves were enough to make her manage a small smile. "Someone cares about me." Dyme smiled at her, but felt a weight in his chest-he couldn't think of anyone who would care for him outside of here. "That's wonderful..."

" He can't take that away from me, can he?"

"I don't think he can: even if you don't know it, there will be someone above who loves you."

"... thank you." She tiredly hugged him. "I don't think I'd be alive if I was on my own."

Dyme hugged her back and closed his eyes. "Me either..."

"If we get out of this - both of us - I'll see if I can find you somewhere to live. Somewhere better."

The male blinked his eyes open again and looked at Arlene. "...y...you mean that?"

She nodded. "I've never helped anyone in my life because I thought I was the one who needed help. But maybe... maybe I should try. For once."

Dyme was silent for a second when he realized his eyes were wet. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you." She didn't reply, and curled up a little more. Then bit her lip. "You're name isn't David... is it?"

"No." Dyme's voice seemed to break. "I don't remember what it is."

"... Do you know mine?"

"I...think it was..." Dyme had to think. "...Lena?'

"... sounds close," She sighed and didn't press further. Instead she got up to get changed again, murmuring, "I'll go to bed soon."

"Me too," Dyme sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes. She returned back in the dress some minutes later, dumping the towels boredly on the floor and getting back on the bed. "Can I sleep next to the wall?" Dyme glanced up and nodded, getting up to let her get to it and moving to sit on the other side of the bed. "I just feel safer being between stuff." she explained needlessly, slipping in and finding a comfy spot to lay, then sighed into the pillow. "... I wish I could remember."

"I understand," Dyme said, swinging his legs onto the bed. "I wish I could too." Arlene sighed as if to thank him, but not having the energy to do so. She lay still a fair while, when suddenly her eyes opened wider.

"... I have an idea."

Dyme looked at her. "What is it?"

She opened her mouth, then froze and glanced around for any cameras or listening devices. She didn't see any but still, she drew up the duvet over them and whispered, barely audible, "Leo was sick... wasn't he? And, Ricky let him out of his room to take him to get some medicine. What if one of us pretended to get sick? We might get a chance to run."

Dyme's eyes widened. "You're right," he near-silently breathed back. However, just as quickly as he seemed taken by the idea, his face fell. "We may be put in the study if we fail...or even killed."

"I'd be willing to risk it. Look, if just one of us makes it out, we could run, we could do something to make people come look here. Anything. We can't both do it, it would look too suspicious. One of us has to go it alone... I... I-i'll do it if you don't want to."

"No. I'll do it." Dyme said, almost inaudibly but firmly. "No offense intended, but I'm more physically suited for it. I may be half-starved, but I've got SOME muscle." He chuckled a little bit. "...but...the problem would be getting people to listen."

"It's only Keith here tomorrow. Ian said it himself. We can do this. You can do this." She gave a hopeful, breathless laugh. "Take something of mine; take something that says you know me. Oh God, what do I have you can take...?" Her face slowly fell. She had been thrown into this mess wearing only a nightie, and had no idea where that had been taken after she had gotten dressed in that room. "... We have to find the room they made us change in. My dress might still be in there."

Dyme nodded a little shakily. "O-okay. I think we're going to need to knock Keith out somehow if he comes to get us, otherwise there's no way I can muscle past him. We'll have to take him by surprise."

"At the very least we'd have to distract him," she agreed, shivering. "Okay... we can do this; it's possible. But we might not ever get a chance like this ever again." She held up her hand for him to take and seal the deal. "We're going to do this. Okay?"

"Okay." He placed his palm against hers, interlocking their fingers. "I won't let us down. I promise."

"And if we fail..." She swallowed and closed her eyes. "... at least we tried. At least we didn't sit and let this happen."

Dyme nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. "Yeah."

"... you're very brave."

He opened his eyes. "...you are too. I'd be scared to death to be left behind here."

"I am scared, but I'd be even more scared if I had to escape." She sighed and glanced aside thoughtfully. "Don't come back, if you manage to get out. Don't get involved even if you manage to find someone to help. Stay as far from here as you can. If you manage to get out, they'll want you dead. If they get their hands on you again, they'll get what they want."

"But..." He bit his lip, looking down. "...all right. For you. I...just won't like sitting on the sidelines, not knowing what's going to happen to you."

"You'd get over it if something did happen to me," she commented quietly.

"No." Dyme said, eyes saddening. "Not like this."

"We don't even know our own names. Let alone each others. You'll forget about me."

"I may not remember your name, but I'll definitely remember you."

"As the bitch who got you into this mess," she whispered sadly, before turning away to face the wall.

Dyme grabbed her arm. "As the girl who saved me. I would have died long ago here if it wasn't for you. And the fault is mine as well."

"How have I saved you? I've never saved anyone in my life."

"You've given me reason to live down here. I probably would've thrown myself into the machines if it wasn't for you."

She just trailed off and muttered thoughtfully, "that might work... didn't think of that..."

"Only do it if no one gets to you," Dyme said, tone urgent and expression pained. "I won't live myself if you've committed suicide right before help got to you."

"And what if help is on the way, but Keith or Ian corners me here?" Dyme shuddered. "I don't know. I just...I've got to save you and the others. I've just got to."

She sighed, then rolled back to face him, hugging. "I hope this works. It has to. I don't think we'll get the chance ever again. God, so scared..."

"Me too. Let's try to get some sleep. We'll need our rest."

"You're right." She let out another sigh and curled up to keep warm, letting her head resurface from the duvet and lay on the pillow. Dyme was quickly asleep, breathing deep and even until the klaxon blared. He started but then groaned, covering his ears. A sheer, cold sweat had broken out over his body and he looked sickly and tired. The bed strangely warm, Arlene bolted up in a surprised jolt at the sound then groaned with him, a hand fumbling on him blindly. When she finished the initial waking up, she gazed at him, then whispered, "... you're either a great actor... or you're genuinely sick..."

Dyme just weakly looked up at her, but the eye half-hidden due to the mattress winked. He'd somehow been able to mimic the symptoms of illness after being sick so, SO many times in his life...he gave a cough, sounding as though his throat was filled with gunk. She caught the wink, but only just. Amazed at his performance, Arlene tried to give him the briefest smile of gratitude and encouragement before saying louder, "Oh... oh you really _are_ sick, aren't you?" and sat up to pull him into a cuddle: silently squeezing him to tell him 'good luck'.

Dyme gently squeezed her back, still groaning. "Gotta get up...Dad'll be so disappointed if I don't..."

"But Dad's not here today," she feigned concern, as if they were suddenly without options. She looked around helplessly, hoping any cameras that might be there would catch her movements. "Come on, brother, I think you should rest before you get any worse."

"No," Dyme moaned, pulling away. "I have to...to..." He stood, swaying for a moment before crumpling silently.

"Ah!" She sank to kneel beside him, shaking him gently. "Please get up! Please! Someone come help! He's fallen! Please!"

A matter of minutes later, there came heavy footsteps, fast and purposeful. Mutterings dark and grumpy came before the door was unlocked and Keith strode in, snapping, "what's the commotion, twerp?" Dyme feebly stirred, eyes unfocused. Without another word, he shakily stood up, lurched to the scummy toilet, and vomited almost spectacularly into it. "Ah Christ, why'd this have to happen when I'm going solo!" the man growled moodily, striding after and keeping an eye on Dyme. Arlene blinked, noticing Keith had left the door wide open, and left her unattended... No: she couldn't. It would deviate from the plan.

There was a sudden scuffle, muffled yells, bangs, a thud, and gurgling. Arlene jumped, frightened at the sounds and unsure whether to go see. Dyme dragged an unconscious Keith out of the bathroom, looking shocked. "...can't believe I just did that..." A broken-off showerhead was rolling around in the bathroom. "He's going to be out for a while..." He gestured to the large, bloody lump on the man's head. "This means we can both go."

Arlene pulled herself together and hissed, "move." Yanking him along out of the room, she gathered her bearings and chanted a brief, "oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," before recalling that strange room with the clothes was upstairs. Taking him that way, she tried every door until she found the room, then tore away from him to start searching for her dress.

Dyme was fuelled on pure adrenaline, sorting through everything, corpses, clothes, etcetera. "I've got it!" He whisper-cried, holding up the sad-looking, filthy garment. Arlene was panting now, on pure fright and excitement. Racing over, she looked it over then satisfied it was indeed hers, she took his arm again and rushed them both down the stairs. "We have to find that ash room, we have to!" But she had no idea where to look for that, and panic set in again.

"We'll get there," Dyme snarled. "We'll get out of here, damn it!"

A bullet spat sharply into the wall between them and Arlene instinctively flinched, shrieking. Keith was pulling himself out of their room, hardly able to lift the arm with his gun, let alone aim. Just as he forced himself to gaze at them, his body collapsed again and he crashed out to the floor. Shaking and knowing that had bought them more time, the girl once again began to drag him down the corridor, checking every door and giving increasingly terrified sobs as each was locked or led to nowhere. Dyme was hyperventilating now when an idea struck him. Twisting his arm away from Arlene's, he darted down the hallway at top speed to retrieve Keith's gun, then ran back. "Have to have something," he said, shaking in sheer terror.

Arlene couldn't have cared less if Dyme had found a bazooka, she was too busy chanting 'oh my god' over and over in whispered hysteria as each door came up useless. Finally, she found a door that led to another corridor of doors and tried all those. The penultimate one clicked open, into a room that stank of ash. "I think I've found it... oh God, oh God..."

"Let's go!" Dyme cried, wasting no time in dragging her into it. Arlene was wary about going into the dark unknown but with little choice she was taken in and instantly began patting the walls, gasping in panic as each second seemed like another drop of ink on her death warrant. "I can't find it!"

Dyme was wheezing, noises getting closer and closer to sobs as he felt all over the walls. "No...no no no oh god no please no no no no..."

There came a loud clang as the door was shut behind them without warning. The whole room was plunged into complete blackness, making Arlene gasp, when a hand came over her mouth and she felt a gun sticking into her neck.

Little did their attacker know that the darkness had given Dyme cover. There was a sudden bang and the gun fell from her neck. "Little shit... you just used your last bullet," Keith's voice hissed, still having hold of Arlene, who was shaking from the close blast near her ear. He shuffled back with her to retrieve his gun. "Shit... I'm pissed. I am _pissed_, you little sack of shit... Jesus..." Obviously his head was still giving him pain, but his anger was more the problem here. "You want out? You want out of here? Fine. Lemme offer you the door. See you in Hell." He shot, though couldn't see so well in the pitch black and could only go by sound, shooting in the vague direction of the breathing. Arlene elbowed him in the stomach, and the shot missed, but he forced her down to the floor and forced the gun into her mouth as she tried kicking and screaming. "Either of you move, I blow her fucking brains apart, I swear to God."

Dyme froze completely, not even shaking. _This is the end. This is the end. We're going to die miserably. We're going to die...we're not going to make it...God help us...anything...PLEASE..._ He squeezed his eyes shut and tears dropped silently into the thick ash, cleaning tracks on his face. Arlene was trying to beg out loud, muffled around the barrel of the gun and tearful. Keith carefully got back to his feet and took her with him, still at gunpoint. He opened the door, and in the light that flooded in, smirked at the mortified Dyme.

"You can stay here and imagine all the things I'm about to do to her. Then I'll come for you."

Arlene burst into tears but managed to meet Dyme's gaze and psychically willed him to use this time to keep searching for the way out, before the door was slammed shut and locked, sealing him in pitch black.

Dyme threw himself against the shutting door, screaming as he smashed repeatedly into it. "No! _No_! _NO!"_ He beat against it for a moment more before digging through the ash, sobbing. He gasped when he felt something and began to scrabble at it-yes-_yes!_ It was the door! He tried to pry it open and found he couldn't. With a yell of determination, he began kicking at it, pulling at it, trying to loosen it up...

Bright, bright light streamed through. He flinched for half a second before running out, adrenaline flooding his veins. Time seemed to be going so slowly...he was in sunlight, cold air, but hot sunlight, near-blinded but still finding his way...there was the van, but surely he wouldn't be able to drive it, he hadn't the key...he kicked out the windows and windshield anyways, glass cutting his sides...he began digging through the glovebox and-his eyes widened-was that really a spare key? He dug it into the ignition and turned it-the van started-and before he knew it, he was driving recklessly off in the opposite direction of that horrible place, nearly tipping the van as he tried to drive straight.

They had been taken into countryside. Barren wilderness went on for a long time, before pleasant green fields overtook them, with cows grazing. A farm and a small cluster of houses appeared on the horizon, about ten miles from the 'harmless little shack' that hid the horrors within. Dyme stomped on the gas, going at worrying speeds towards the houses. He was beginning to pant again, eyes wide and deranged with desperation. When he reached it, he swerved to a stop, gasping as the van tipped on its side, but quickly climbing out, slicing his fingers to ribbons on the glass. He fell out painfully, landing on more broken glass when he began to run to the nearest house, banging nonstop on the door and screaming for help.

* * *

><p>It took a lot of persuading, convincing, lie tests, accusations, shouting, distrusting and general commotion over the period of a day and a bit, before Dyme was pushed into the back of a police car and told to give exact directions to the place, and describe the interior on the drive up there. Dyme's memory was as if photographic, despite the gaps in it before. He relayed the directions and descriptions back to the policemen in a heartbeat, trying to convey that he <em>needed to get back there or his dear friend and other children would die, WHY DON'T THEY UNDERSTAND THAT?<em>

The desperation inside him was soon to worsen though. When they arrived, the shack was on fire. Fresh tire tracks were ground from outside it and off East.

Dyme turned sheet white as he looked at it. "No..." he said in a shaking whisper, beginning to breathe quickly. "No, no, no, _no, no, no,_ _NO!"_ His voice rose to a scream as he tried to wrest a gun from a police officer, wanting to end his life, end everything, he _would not live with this,_ he deserved to die, he _needed to die_! He was unaware that he was screaming all of this, eventually reduced to curling up in a ball and clutching his head, weeping. The policeman yanked him away and took him by the wrists and began talking to him in a forceful but controlled tone, telling him he needed to calm down, and that there were many possibilities that this could still be resolved, and that if he didn't calm down, he would resort to self defense.

"They're going to die," Dyme simply moaned, simply shaking his head but not resisting otherwise. "They're all going to die, and it's _all my fault."_

"They might have escaped, they might have been taken with them, they might still be okay in there. Now if you don't mind, son, sit the hell down and leave this to the law." That said, the officer muttered into his walkie talkie for a comrade to call the fire brigade, whilst another officer called for special riot police to attend the scene ready to break in.

Dyme silently obliged, trembling from head to toe. He was unaware of how insane he looked-covered in filth, still deathly thin, pale, crying, hair greying from stress. His head shot up as he remembered something. "Her name was Arlene." He breathed. "You were looking for her. Arlene."

The cop paused in mid transmission, flicking his eyes onto the youth. "... hold up Sarge." He crouched down, putting down the walkie talkie. "Say that again."

"Her name is Arlene," Dyme spoke up more loudly. "I know that you were looking for her...I-I don't know her last name but she comes from a wealthy family, daughter of a businessman."

"Describe her."

"Short, petite, blonde hair, greenish eyes, a little younger'n me."

The man instantly straightened back up and began saying a lot of code words loudly in urgency and sudden seriousness. The other officer overheard and rubbed a hand down his face, swearing tiredly.

"Please...you have to save her...s-she c-can't die..."

The police ignored him and kept on sending out messages, then had a chat with each other, seemingly forgetting the burning building in front of them. A fire engine eventually pulled up along with a couple more police cars, whilst another squad car followed the tracks that led away. As the blaze was finally tackled, it was easily put out, but the police hung back and let the firemen handle it.

"I-is there any chance anyone is inside?" Dyme whimpered, hoping someone would hear him.

He was ignored, everyone rushing around, seemingly forgetting he was even there. After ten minutes of pauses, shouts at each other and then panicked radio calls, the firemen returned... with the first limp, charred, fleshless corpse. It was impossible to tell who it was. Dyme gave a whimpering squeak of horror and hid his head in his hands. "A-arlene," he sobbed, rocking back and forth.

Twenty minutes passed by before the next body was lifted out - this one definitely one of the boys - and Ricky was dragged out, coughing and ash-faced. He was screaming and sobbing hysterically. His feet had been sawn off.

Dyme looked up sharply, face white. "Ricky," he breathed. "_Ricky_!" He stood up to run to him, struggling violently when an officer held him back. Another officer saw this and took off his hat, whispering, "Jesus fucking Christ..."

As Ricky was laid down and the police did all they could for him until the ambulance arrived, firemen came back and called they couldn't find anything else. However, one of the policeman's dogs was barking at the remains and the trainer agreed to go in with the firemen to sniff about. After an agonising half hour, they emerged, Arlene knocked out and scorched, laying limp in a pair of arms.

"Arlene! _ARLENE!"_ Dyme screamed far more loudly than before, twisting violently to free himself from the officer as he stumbled over to her. "Wake up, wake up, you can't die, y-you c-can't leave me!" he sobbed, falling to his knees and pulling at his own hair. "C-can't leave me!" He was plucked up and dragged back from her, told sharply to stay clear. Another officer quietly approached and told the restraining officer to drive Dyme back to the station to calm down. The fireman holding Arlene, meanwhile, laid her down a little ways from Ricky, and began performing CPR, talking to her in an encouraging but urgent hush to try and coax her back into breathing.

Dyme didn't even struggle as he was loaded into a police car, clawing at his arms hard enough to draw blood as he wept. "My...fault...my...doing...should...die..."

* * *

><p>They kept Dyme at the police station for further questioning, now as a witness rather than a suspect andor suspicious party. Once they gleaned all they could from him, their time was mostly taken up with trying to track down Ian: Keith had been found strapped to the 'study' chair, overdosed on Ian's now apparently poisonous toxin.

Files showed Ian had been admitted into school counselling from the age of ten, displaying an odd obsession for 'guarding' younger children. Further digging found Ricky (real name Harry) disappeared at the age of seven, seven years later, where Ian was preparing for medical school. Keith (real name Samuel) had disappeared a couple of days after Ricky. Both 'Ricky' and 'Keith' had been homeless orphans.

More and more files were dug up, each from the 'missing persons' division, each describing a young homeless person with little or no family, loving or otherwise, being last seen talking, walking or in the same area as 'a white male, about 5'8, driving a van'. A manhunt went underway. Ian was never found.

One day, an officer came in to talk to Dyme, very tired from all the paperwork this mess had cropped up.

Dyme was staring blankly down at the floor, hands resting limply in his lap. His mouth was slightly open, breathing quietly. He had been cleaned-all the ash and blood was washed off of him, and his hair was no longer tangled, though it was still quite long. It obscured his face and dead blue eyes-it was almost disturbing. He didn't look up when the officer came in, hands twitching slightly.

"What do you want?" His voice was a breathy whisper, spent from crying and screaming.

"I've come to take you to the hospital..." The officer swallowed and put a hand on Dyme's shoulder. "There's... been some bad news. About your friend."

Dyme looked up, hair sliding out of his face.

"Arlene? Or Ricky?"

"..." he nervously bit his lip. "... I'll explain on the way. Come on."

Dyme rose from the chair, face expressionless as he followed the officer out. He was simply too exhausted to panic or feel upset at this point.

Letting him ride shotgun in the squad car, the officer calmly turned on the sirens for the sake of getting there quickly. As traffic moved aside, he began in a quiet way, "Arlene needs a heart transplant. Not only is it a serious and risky operation with a large chance of failure... but... Ricky is the one offering up his for her. Do you... understand the complications this might bring if the operation fails?"

Dyme stared dead ahead, nodding weakly. "What if it goes right? What happens to Ricky?"

"... Arlene's parents are filthy rich. They can afford the best doctors there are. But... even the best doctors can't keep a donor alive after a heart transplant." They were already at the hospital, parking up. Before getting out, the officer turned to Dyme, and murmured, "he... he requested for you specifically to come see him now."

Dyme's eyes widened a little and his stomach gave a lurch. "...okay..."

"Kid..." His hand rested on Dyme's arm. "... it's his choice. I know it's gotta be hard on you... but this is what he wants. Be happy for him."

Dyme nodded numbly. "Okay" was all he could manage as he turned and stepped out of the car, feeling sick and jelly-legged.

The officer led him through the hospital to Ricky's room. It was a quiet ward, seperate from the other beds. The ultimate 'waiting' room, where the terminally ill and the donors who would not see the end of the day were kept in the peace with a lovely view of some park outside several floors down.

As they entered, Ricky looked over tiredly and smiled. The officer backed off for some privacy, but stayed just outside the door. The patient opened his arms in want of a hug.

Dyme nearly ran over and collapsed into his arms, but instead walked quickly and gently hugged Ricky, crying into his shoulder.

"I'm s-sorry...I'm s-so sorry...th-this is all my f-fault..."

Ricky was weak and shaky, but managed to pull the boy up onto the bed and stroked his back. "It's not your fault, David."

"Y-yes it is," he cried. "I-I p-plotted this, I p-practically..." He was unable to finish his sentence as he cried, trying not to hurt Ricky yet holding onto him as if for dear life.

"... I'd never seen Dad so angry," Ricky admitted guiltily. "It's not like him to take Keith to the study."

Hatred rose in Dyme like a snake at the mention of _his_ name, but he did not show it. "I've d-destroyed your family..."

"No, David. I did. I was the one who broke the machine. I remember now. I should have said something, but I felt funny and didn't remember it was me. But I'm going to make it all better, and make sure Emily is okay." Dyme's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he squeezed them tightly shut. He wanted so badly to tell him that her name was _not_ Emily, it was Arlene, and would always be Arlene. "I tried to help her before. Me and Dad came home and found her with Keith. Dad exploded and knocked Keith out to stop him. He didn't want me touching her though, or running to check on Leo and James. I tried to say sorry, and explain I just wanted to check on them, but Dad got angry and... I remember feeling my feet. But I can't feel them anymore." Dyme didn't know whether to tell him or not, so he just remained silent, hugging Ricky. Ricky cuddled him back and rocked him much like he had done for Leo that time. "I'm worried Dad will be angry I've gone to long... you will tell him what I decided to do, won't you? I'm doing this for Emily. She's been so unhappy."

"O-of course...he'll understand..."

Ricky smiled, as if a great weight was off his mind, and he sank back into his pillows, holding Dyme's hands. "You're an awesome little brother."

"H-heh, you're an awesome big one..." Dyme squeezed Ricky's hands.

A tear actually appeared in Ricky's eye. He smiled as if his heart was breaking in two simply from bursting. "... you're the first one... the first one out of all of my brothers and sisters... they all pushed me and told me to keep away... they thought I wanted to hurt them... Or they got scared. But you..." He actually sobbed in delight.

Dyme began to cry too, though his heart was breaking from sorrow. "Y-you're wonderful, R-ricky..."

The man choked on a sob and wrapped his arms back around Dyme, squeezing him tightly. Dyme was crying into his shoulder. "G-gonna miss you..."

"Tell Emily I love her. I love her with all my heart, and I'll prove it to her with this operation."

"I-I will," he gasped out, nodding and shaking.

Ricky smiled and kissed his cheek briefly in the hug, stroking his hair before sniffing and pulling back, wiping his eyes. "... you should go see her... I'll be alright. Go on, be quick... y-you... don't have long until they put her under. She's three doors down. The Hermes Ward."

"K-kay..." Dyme bit his lip, hugging Ricky tightly before almost running out of the room, crying openly the minute he exited it. Ricky watched him sadly, but still with a smile, and rubbing at his eyes again, he went back to gazing dreamily into the clouds and watching birds sail by as the last precious moments ticked by.

Not bothering to talk to the officer, Dyme began panickedly searching for the Hermes ward. When he found it, he almost burst in, but kept it quiet so as not to disturb her. "A...Arlene?

It may have been called a 'ward' but it was only one bed. The joys of being filthy rich. The girl was alone, surrounded by flowers, untouched chocolates, unwrapped presents, and untouched food. She blinked groggily but upon finally spotting him through the haze she lifted her arms for him and cried, "Dyme...!"

He nearly collapsed as the force of his real name hit him and he ran over to her, hugging her tightly. "A-arlene..."

She groaned, on some kind of pain relief, judging by the IV in her hand, but she hugged him back as much as she could and whispered, "you're alive... they wouldn't tell me about you, they told me to stop thinking about you; said you weren't important."

Dyme felt his heart clench painfully. "Who?"

"When my parents visited. They said to forget it, you weren't important, you were no one. They wouldn't listen, Dyme! They didn't come back after that, said they were too busy with business, and only Ricky's been visiting, but now he's going to die for me and I might die too and I just need someone to hold me and tell me it'll all be alright!" She was sobbing again.

Dyme felt a small thrill of anger. "They won't visit their own..." He shook his head, anger filled by anguish. He hugged Arlene tightly, rocking her just a bit. "It's going to be okay, Arlene: it really will."

"I th-thought I'd never see anyone ever again, I thought you had died or something and I never got to thank you, and I keep having nightmares that won't go away, even when I'm awake, and I'm so s-scared!"

"I thought I wouldn't see you again either," Dyme whispered, eyes frosted with tears. "But it's going to be all right...we'll see each other again, even if it's not as soon as we'd like."

"Th-there's a 40% chance I'll die." She pushed her head into his neck, clinging. "I don't want to die! Not after all we escaped."

Dyme held her close. "I don't want you to die either...b-but hey, there's a 60% chance you'll live, right?" He smiled weakly.

"R-rather it was 100%."

"I do too, but we've gotta work with what we got." He gently rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. "We made it out of there, we'll make it out of here. Together."

"S...s-seems crazy..." she managed the weakest, most terrified laugh she could. Breathless and quiet. Shaking. "A-all because Mom and Dad were a-annoyed I'd gone out without p-permission to get myself some s-shoes... and it e-ends here."

Dyme felt more anger towards her parents. "I almost wish we could run away - the both of us - and find somewhere better."

"So do I," she sniffed, then whispered in a trembling voice, "I have my own bank account. I can get us anywhere on the planet."

"We...we may have to wait until you're old enough to live on your own...but then we'll do it. We'll do it, and they won't be able to keep us apart."

"Yeah... sounds nice." She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his shoulder, trying to calm down. She didn't help herself by mumbling, "gotta live to see the sunrise first..."

Dyme shushed her gently. "You'll make it there."

"C... could you walk with me when they come to take me? A-and... will you wait until its over?" Dyme swallowed but nodded.

"Yes. I'll be at your side the whole time." Something clicked in his brain. He remembered the song he would always sing to help his brother sleep...

_"I met a girl on Halloween  
>Well she was lost, and I was drunk<br>And it was dark and cold out when we left..."_

"... what're you doing...?" she almost laughed, but smiled gently as she whispered the question, not wanting to interrupt him, and somewhat grateful.

_"And as we walked, the rained started  
>The leaves softened with every step<br>And all around us people slept  
>Alone with their dreams..."<em>

There came the un-intrusive trundle of a wheelchair, the door opening. A new voice came in, sheepish._  
><em>

"_The wind came down from up the plains,  
>and blew the leaves all through the streets...<em>"

Ricky had rolled to the doorway, and was smiling, shyly joining in, making Arlene look up and get tearful again. Tears trickled down Dyme's face, but he continued singing, voice trembling slightly.

_"I wondered how far leaves could really fly..."_

Ricky didn't know the rest, but he didn't mind just humming gently, rolling into the room, taking his little life-on-wheels with him in a squeaky rumble, before achingly sitting by the bed and hugging them both. Dyme hugged him back, voice fighting not to break as he sang.

_"W-would they rest in suburb yards?  
>Or make it t-to the city? Or,<br>Would they end up in the river just to float away?"_

Arlene pushed head head to nuzzle between them, shaking. Dyme continued with his song, crying openly now as he hugged them both tightly.

A doctor and a team of nurses hung around outside the door. One of the nurses was muttering a prayer for them as they shared a solemn respect for their privacy. But they couldn't hold off any longer. There was a knock at the door. The doctor entered.

"It's time to say goodbye..."

"I have to be with her," Dyme said, looking almost frightened at the sight of the doctors. "Please...I can't not be there." Arlene trembled, turned pale and clutched him.

"You are free to stay, but I'm sorry to say you must wait in the general waiting room: only family are allowed to view the surgery, and even then, from behind glass."

Ricky looked strangely calm as a nurse helped him get comfortable, but he paused, then turned back to the two teenagers, kissing them both and giving them a tight hug. "Love you... I'll think of you always."

"I'll never forget you," Dyme whimpered before hugging Arlene tightly. There wasn't much he could do from this point... "I'll be waiting. I promise."

"Please..." Arlene whispered desperately. "Please do. I-i'm sure Ricky w-will wait as well i-if that's what happens... but... but I want someone this side too, t-to... to save me." The doctor pulled Dyme gently off the bed, making Arlene tremble and breathe, "Oh God," in fright before putting her head in her hands as her bed was moved out of the room.

Dyme let out a weak sob, reaching out for her as he was led out of the room, completely breaking down the moment he was outside it. The nurse who had taken him away gave him a brief impersonal cuddle then kept her hands on his shoulders as Ricky was put back in his bed and rolled along behind Arlene's bed. They were already applying the gas to knock them out. Dyme said nothing and merely hid his face in his hands, bony shoulder shaking as he cried. He couldn't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone coherent words. The nurse led him after a little ways, but then took him down a seperate hall and put him in a chair around the corner and two double doors away from the operating theatre.

* * *

><p>The dull clock ticked endlessly, the smallest hand crawling from the 10, to the 11, to the twelve, then the 1, 2 and 3, before the operation ended and bloodied gloves were thrown tiredly into the sink. Dyme was staring unblinkingly down at his feet, hands clutching tighter and tighter at his hair as the minutes passed until it was almost unbearable, but unbearable was good, he could no longer feel the worry and only worry...his breaths were deliberately slow and even but they shook.<p>

A trolley was approaching through the doors from the direction of the theatre, and pushed into his corridor passing slowly. It was a pale nurse pushing a trolley-load of Arlene possessions, and a heavily noted clipboard.

Dyme got to his feet at a frightening speed, staring intensely at the nurse before running back to Arlene's ward, already finding it hard to breathe.

Her room had been cleared out. Not a speck of dust, no shred of human life there. Just sterile, clean and empty, with a shaft of sunlight pouring in.

Dyme sunk to his knees, shaking heavily. He began to hyperventilate, nails digging into his scalp. Unbridled rage and anguish crashed through him. How could they do this? Throw her away like trash?

"Excuse me, what in blazes are you doing in here?" an annoyed male voice came from the doorway. Dyme was on his feet in a heartbeat, looking absolutely livid as he rounded on the man. It was a young doctor, who instantly shrank back at the expression on the teen's face. "C-can I help you?"

"The girl in here," he snarled, voice shaking in rage. "Do you know what happened to her? Has she been moved? Or is she dead?" His voice cracked slightly at the last word.

The doctor grimaced and in a strangled voice, explained, "I'm new here..."

Dyme instantly brushed past him, resisting the urge to bump hard into him. He felt sick and dizzy with emotion, stumbling like a drunk. The trolley with her things was still moving down the hall he had left, just about to round a corner.

"Hey! _Hey_!" He ran up and gripped the nurse's shoulder hard, shaking. "Is she being moved? Or is she dead?"

The nurse was surprisingly frightened by the sudden contact and another rushed over to move Dyme away from her. However the nurse started to cry, and walked off briskly, hand over her face, abandoning the trolley. And something about the way she did it made it clear it wasn't from Dyme's 'scary' behaviour. Dyme's hand fell limply by his side as he collapsed to his knees. "No...no no no no...s-she c-can't...c-can't leave me..."

The remaining nurse crouched and tried pulling him back onto his feet. "Come on, boy, not here. This is not the place to make a scene, come along now, I'm sure I can find you somewhere quiet to sit and get it out..." She was babbling as if this was just any other day on the ward. Which it was, for her.

Dyme wrenched his arm away from her, looking livid again. _"Do. Not. Touch. Me."_ he hissed, breathing heavily. _"Don't you fucking come near me."_ He began to back away, eventually turning and flat-out running, shoving past people, running past the officer, trying to get out of the hospital so he could throw himself into traffic and never have to have the pain of living again.

As he fled through one hall, a voice rang out. "She's alive, you know."

Dyme came to a halt, turning to the voice. "...what?"

The security guard that had spoke to them all those nights ago was sat casually on a chair, seemingly unsurprised by Dyme's appearance.

"...why...why didn't they tell me?"

The guard groaned as he got off the chair and strolled over, clapping a hand on his shoulder and starting to guide Dyme back the way he'd come. "I'm not sure what you're on about. But the young Miss had a feeling if you showed up in time to see her off, you would try to bolt out and do something stupid out of blind panic. So, she made arrangements to have me stand guard here, in case you showed up looking in a hurry to do something you'd regret. I was given bribed privileges to be told via walkie talkie DIRECTLY seconds after the operation to know whether it was a success or not. As for why no one told you, maybe you just weren't asking the right people or were asking the right people in the wrong way."

"But...but..." Dyme's voice was weak and trembling, as were his knees. "...sh-shit..."

"You may not see her today. She will be very weak. And in need of rest. She's not entirely out of the woods yet. But the operation was successful: it's all a matter of adjustment. And I have a good feeling with the odds of her dying now being 0.08%." He managed a chuckle and guided Dyme to a ward, but didn't open the door, and instead hoisted him up a little to see through the small window. Arlene lay, still with the mask over her mouth, and hooked up to all kind of machinery. But she had a pulse, and the doctors were making notes on her progress. She was being cared for.

"Happy?"

"...yes." Dyme nearly completely lost it again, tears of relief falling down his face. "Yes."

"You know, I've known her since she was ten, when her father first started using those apartments for his business trips. And in those four-five years I've known her, I never expected her to allow this, but..." He sighed and turned Dyme to face the door directly opposite. "She made arrangements for the hospital to lend you a room to stay in throughout her stay. I quote, 'if that boy shows up, he'd better be there if I get out of my operation... or I am going to hunt him down and strangle him.'" A pause, then a laugh. "I don't envy you, kid."

Dyme weakly began to laugh, still crying and trembling in relief. "I-I thought...d-damn..."

"Yeeeeeeaaah, she's always been a little drama queen... even when she's not actually conscious. Heh. Women."

"Sh-she was a real drama queen when we met," Dyme said, still laughing a bit. "...though...I instigated..." He smiled guiltily.

"To her mind, everyone instigated." He opened the door and put Dyme in his temporary room. It was plain; bed, shelves with a single small teddy sat in the corner, window with a view of the city, and a toy box. "Eh heh, sorry: this was the only room the hospital could spare. S'usually for children sick with contagious diseases. But don't worry, it's been thoroughly cleaned out."

"S'alright." He sat down on the bed, feeling something akin to anxiety, but he didn't know why.

"She also allowed me an $1000 budget to spent on your stay here. So if you want something to spruce up the room, you got it. Her orders."

Dyme smiled faintly. "Alright" He still felt nervous. It was as if this room reminded him of something.

The guard wasn't to know, and awkwardly swung his arms looking for something else to talk about. "I... uh... have a funeral to arrange now. She wanted that donor guy to have a proper burial... gotta chat with the morgue. So... uh... yeah. You have fun." He shuffled out, giving a small salute.

"...Ricky..." Dyme murmured, feeling the weight that had been lifted from his shoulders settle down again. "...thank you..."

"No sweat, kiddo."

The man was gone, leaving Dyme to his thoughts. It was then, with an unpleasant lurch, Dyme realized what this reminded him of - the childish atmosphere brought back the wretched days in _that_ room. He put his head in his hands, taking a deep breath in to calm himself. He knew he was not there. Arlene was okay. He was okay. Keith and Ian were gone, gone, gone...

* * *

><p>Early the next morning, there was a knock on his door. Dyme had awoken a long time ago and he looked over at the door. "Come in..."<p>

The doctor that had been there to take Arlene away yesterday opened the door and stood in the frame. "She's stable. You may see her." Dyme quietly slid off the bed, looking far more tranquil than the day before.

"Thank you."

The doctor nodded and held open both the doors for him, murmuring, "she's still asleep, and still weak. Try not to do anything that will startle or disturb her."

Dyme nodded. "Okay." He silently walked through the doors, realizing he didn't know where she was being held.

On the lonely bed in the room beyond, she lay still unmoving, but the machine at her bed was happily beeping her pulse. She looked tired, but there was colour in her cheeks and she was breathing without the mask now. Dyme eventually found his way to her, almost nervously stepping into her room. "Hi," he said very softly.

She didn't respond, but an empty chair was waiting at her bedside. Dyme silently walked over to it and sat in it, wanting to take her hand but worried he'd disturb her. So, he settled for simply watching her, until he drifted off into sleep once more.

"... D...y..."

Dyme's eyes instantly opened, his head jerking up with an audible and painful crick. Was he hearing things? The little whisper came again, quieter. Arlene's fingers twitched in weak desperation. Dyme's hand was instantly in hers. "Right here," he whispered.

She could scarcely hold her eyes open half-way for more than two seconds before the effort became too much. She couldn't even squeeze his hand back in return. "... stay..."

"I will," Dyme vowed, still clutching her hand.

With that, she smiled and lost consciousness again, not retrieving it until later that afternoon. She was stronger this time, and got his attention by squeezing his hand. Dyme had been awake this entire time and nearly jumped in surprise when she squeezed his hand. However, he squeezed it back quickly. "Right here." She opened her eyes, looking tired still, but not on the verge of fainting again.

"... I'm alive."

"Just barely." He smiled at her, but quickly pouted. "I nearly had a heart attack."

"That'd make two of us..." she joked in a gentle rasp, smiling tiredly and rolling her head a small ways to gaze at him. He smiled down at her squeezing her hand.

"...you know...for a moment...I'd...I'd really thought you were..."

"S'like you said... made it through that Hell... can make it through 'nythin'..."

"Wish I'd known you'd made it through before I swore at a nurse," Dyme admitted with a nervous laugh, blushing. She managed a laugh but groaned in pain and settled down again, stroking her thumb on his knuckles. Then she suddenly looked sad.

"... Ricky's gone... isn't he?"

Dyme's eyes grew wet. "Y-yeah," he whispered, looking down.

"... he held my hand before I passed out..." she frowned a little, trying to remember. "They told me to count down from ten... and he was there at seven. And he smiled. Then five came and it all went away..."

"He died...so happy," Dyme bit his lip. "H-he was crying when I left him to see you, but because he was happy that we loved him and that he would die this way."

"... it shouldn't have been him..." However, Arlene weakly looked down at her chest and closed her eyes, crying a little quietly. She took Dyme's hand and put his and hers over her chest. Dyme put a hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. "...maybe it was better it was him. What kind of life would he lived after this?"

"He... he could have been our guardian."

Dyme's stomach lurched at this thought. He bit his lip. "But he was still very devoted to..." He didn't even want to substitute Ian's name with 'him.'

"... it would've been nice though... don't you think?" Arlene managed a smile, but shivered and grimaced in discomfort. "Sorry... hurts a little..."

"Yeah..." Dyme smiled a bit as well, but frowned at the shiver. "Don't be sorry: you've been through a lot." A sudden thought struck him and he paled. "...d...d'you think we'll need 'counseling'? After this?"

"God knows... I don't care..."

"I'm just worried they'll keep us apart." Dyme bit his lip again, stroking her hair. "And I'm worried we'll have to stay apart until we're both old enough to really live on our own: your parents don't seem too keen on me."

"... you could steal me?" she suggested.

Dyme laughed. "As great a thief as I am, I think we'd get in trouble."

"Pfff, we've survived hell, and I even survived having my heart taken out of my body... we're invincible."

Dyme smiled. "Yeah." He squeezed her hand again. "I'll think of some way for us to communicate, somehow. For now, should we plot what we're gonna do when we're really free?"

"Sounds fun," she smiled tiredly.

"...though let's have you get some sleep first, yeah?"

"Spent all day sleeping..." she sulked, but closed her eyes, the grip on his hand weakening eventually.

"And for good reason." He smiled, still holding her hand. "Don't worry. I'll be here."

She was asleep before he even finished speaking, and awoke in the dead of night, her small bedside lamp buzzing quietly. Her hand felt empty. She panicked and whispered nervously, "Dyme...?"

Dyme had been forced to go back to his room, but he had gotten no sleep. Guilt had been tangling and twisting inside of him. Knowing there could be consequences, he slid silently out of his bed and near-floated across the hall, peeking into Arlene's room. She couldn't sit up just yet. It still hurt badly. But she weakly kicked at her sheets, calling a little louder for him. Seeing this sadly pathetic display, Dyme quickly shut the door and was instantly at her side, clutching her hand. "Right here. I'm sorry. They wouldn't let me stay."

"Th-thought Ian got you..."

Dyme shivered at this thought. "Don't worry, I'm totally okay. I won't leave tonight. I'll see if I can convince them to let me stay." In truth, it had been horrific for him to attempt to sleep alone in his room. Arlene just closed her eyes in relief. Then a thought struck her. "... have my parents been to visit...?"

"I...don't think they have."

"... oh..." She opened her eyes and again looked away, fiddling with her hands. "... Figures. They're busy people. Dad must've had a meeting or something."

Dyme bit his lip, nodding. "Yeah." He looked down at Arlene. "I'll be old enough to legally live on my own in a couple years: d'you think I'll be able to be your 'guardian' or something then?" He really wanted to get away from this horrid town, away from everything...

"... yeah... I'd like that... Something new. Something mine."

"I-I don't even know if they'll let us, but if they do..." He smiled. "It'll be great: I'd definitely have to get a job. Even if your bank account sustains us for a while, it won't last forever."

"We could kill my parents and use my inheritance of my Dad's company?" she suggested. She was too tired to be serious.

"Oh yeah, that'll work out really great." Dyme chuckled, but noticed her tiredness. "...sleep. I'll really be here this time."

"But I wanna talk s'more!"

"What about, then?" Dyme looked amused.

"What we're gonna do when we move in together." She tried to sit up a little on her pillows but gave up, instead opting to gaze at him and muse, "location first." Dyme gently helped sit her up. "As far from here as possible...though it may have to stop at other countries. I only speak English," he said with a chuckle.

"I speak good French," she offered, but she groaned stiffly as he helped her upright. Once done, she settled again and clarified, "but I meant what would be be looking for? City? Country? Small house? Big house? Surroundings?"

"Hmm..." Dyme thought. "I'd like the city again: I've been the nicer parts of one once, and it was great. But what do you want?"

"Just something new. Anything new. To be honest... I'd be tempted to just find myself a cardboard box. But Ian's still out there..."

Dyme shuddered. "I know, but do you think he'll try doing what he did again? With other people? Something like this is going to be big, right?"

She thought about it, then sighed. She was very hungry, but had been told she would only be allowed to start eating tomorrow. "... I don't think I want to care anymore..."

"I just hope they find him." Dyme sighed. "...but back to the houses." He really just wanted a distraction from these scary thoughts. "If you don't want to live in the city, we definitely don't have to: it'd be nice to have a place in the country."

"... Ocean."

Dyme slowly smiled. "I'd like that." He thought back to his first memories of the ocean. The sound was incredible...

"I knew you would," she smiled, closing her eyes as she felt another twinge. "... on a cliff, or level with the beach? One you have risk of flooding, the other is risk of erosion."

"I'd rather live on a cliffside. S'a better view, and we could always walk down to the beach." He smiled at the thought, imagining it. It was all so perfect and wonderful...

"You're making it sound almost romantic. Were you aware of that?" she asked calmly, eyes closed but an eyebrow raised in question.

Dyme flushed brilliantly - not because he had any feelings for Arlene, but because...well...oh dear. "...ummmmmm..." He scratched the back of his head. "...I kinda...have a...confession..."

She groaned, hoping this wasn't going to be what she thought it was. "Dyme... I... I've got no interest in guys right now... You're really special to me, but... yeah..."

"...I was gonna tell you that I'm gay."

"Oh thank _Christ_."

Dyme started giggling, then laughing. "I-I'm sorry!" he said. "I w-wasn't aware of what I was re...you're okay with this?" He looked surprised.

She nodded, then laughed. "I have standards, Dyme. And as sweet as you are, I want a filthy rich doctor with abs like from the movies."

"Good luck with that!" he laughed. "So, what, are we doing some cliffside house or what?"

"Heh, sure~" She closed her eyes as she relaxed again. "A house by the sea, but on the cliff. I have a big fancy villa in mind..."

"I'd like to see what a villa looks like from the inside," Dyme chuckled. Then, a non-house related thought struck him. "...wonder if I could have a music career."

"Music? Why music?"

"S'the only thing I'm good at...I used to have a cello."

"Really?" She shifted a little in discomfort then managed to resume smiling. "You didn't mention this before..."

"Didn't seem like there was a good time..." His eyes suddenly saddened. "...bet my mother found her and used her for firewood."

Arlene could guess who 'she' was. "... I can buy you one, if you'd like."

He looked at her. "You would?"

"I owe you for life."

"..." Gently, Dyme hugged her. "You've no idea how much that means to me." She winced but didn't let on and hugged him back sluggishly. "D'you think you could sleep up here for the rest of tonight...?"

"Of course."

"Thanks..." She patted the part of the bed beside her for him to sit as best as he could with her against the pillows. He sat carefully by her, making sure not to jostle her. "Where will you go until you can live alone?"

"I don't know."

"You can stay with me here, but when I go home... I won't even be in this state."

Dyme looked a little panicked. "Where will you be?"

"South East Coast."

"That's far away," Dyme groaned, putting his head in his hands.

"I could run away."

"They'd find you and bring you back." He sighed. "I might be able to follow you there somehow."

"... I could get father to employ you as a servant."

He looked at her. "I...actually wouldn't mind that."

"I'd need a servant to help watch me after this operation," she went on, growing more hopeful as she spoke. "They wouldn't have to spend any money, I have my own. And it'd give them more chances to push me aside on someone else!"

"Yeah!" Despite being tired, Dyme was feeling excited. She laughed to seal the deal but twinged then sank back, clutching her chest in pain. Dyme looked worried. "You should get some sleep."

"... d...on't ne..eed..."

"You're in pain, I shouldn't keep you up..."

Arlene winced, but gave up and took his hand. "Stay..."

"I will...just please get better."

"Will... I promise..." She rested her cheek to the pillow and sighed out, squeezing his hand. Dyme smiled gently and got comfortable, watching over her, soon drifting off himself.


	4. Chapter 4

When Arlene's parents finally showed up, they had pitched their idea, almost to immediate vetoing. Though with some God-given luck, they had managed to convince them that this was a good idea. Dyme's five years of servitude went beautifully-no matter how many times he had been patronized or ruthlessly ordered around, he did his work dutifully and with a smile, never once talking back or showing signs of annoyance. At last, these long years were finally paying off: Dyme actually looked healthy and had a decent sum of money in his bank account (which wad a relatively recent development.) And at last - at long last - Arlene was legally an adult, and their dreams could be realized. All of this was going through Dyme's head as he hummed, knocking on Arlene's door to wish her a _very_ happy birthday.

She recognised the knock at once; he had a gentleness about his knocks. She was at her desk writing her farewell note. She had decided her parents wouldn't care for a face-to-face goodbye. She only ever saw them at dinner nowadays. Sometimes they looked at her as if momentarily forgetting she was even there. She bade him enter and smiled at him. Dyme walked in, smiling back. He was still long and lanky like he was as a teen, but there was a new maturity about him, almost a confidence. "Happy birthday," he said warmly, walking up to her. "Got your things packed?" His own possesions had managed to fit into a suitcase and a cello case.

"That's a work in progress, heh." She got to her feet too and hugged him briefly before gesturing to the pair of cases on her bed. "I'm having another servant bring the rest along separately to save on us dragging it all. I have enough to last us about two weeks. The flight is booked."

Dyme smiled widely. "Great!" His hands clasped together, wringing nervously and excitedly. "I can't believe we're actually doing this!" His ocean-blue eyes sparkled in anticipation.

"We've not escaped until we're off the plane," Arlene reminded him, picking up her cases and setting them on the floor before picking up her note, signing it and putting it in an envelope. She laid it on her pillow, then beamed at him. "Ready?"

"Oh, don't rain on my parade," Dyme mock-pouted, unable to resist smiling again. "Ready."

She picked up her cases again and strode out of the room, being quick and quiet. "Did you bring your driving license?"

"Yep." Dyme picked up his suitcase and cello, which he'd left outside her door.

"Great. Lewis is going to drive us in the Jag to the airport, then drive on ahead to park her up at the villa." She put her bags in the footspace of the backseats then gestured for him to join her in the backseat as their driver took the wheel. Dyme scooted in next to her, cello taking up quite a bit of space but not enough to be awfully uncomfortable. "I know we're not really away yet, but I already feel kind of free," he grinned.

"You know what would totally complete the experience?"

"What?"

She said nothing and merely handed him a pair of sunglasses as the car started moving down the drive and into open lush countryside. Dyme burst into laughter as he put the sunglasses on. "I love you."

I love you too." She put on her own pair and rested an arm on the side of the car, laughing all the way down the road.

* * *

><p>One reasonably lengthy jet ride later, and the two of them stood outside the villa. It was gorgeous, on the shore of a Pacific bay with white painted walls to reflect the sun's heat, and terracotta tiles on the roof. It wasn't a terribly big villa, but it was a fair size, in an irregular horseshoe shape on a plateau that in turn sat over a low cliff. It looked like an exotic fortress, complete with little low walls.<p>

"...well, holy fucking shit. This is _awesome_."

She smiled and admitted, "I had it built especially, the first day out of hospital. You like it?"

"Do I like it?" He laughed and hugged her. "This is fantastic!"

"Whuah!" His hug had lifted her feet off the ground but she laughed too, patting his back. "Okay, okay, I get it! Lemme down so we can put our stuff in there!"

"Okay!"

He was trying to swallow uncontrollable giggles as he practically skipped to the car, grabbing his things. She shook her head and muttered fondly under her breath before fishing out the keys and strolling through the tropical flowers to unlock the door to the open plan lounge, kitchen and dining room. Leaving the door open for him, she wandered about. There were two bedrooms with double beds, though it seemed they both slept better with each other in the room, if not the bed. A small jacuzzi and barbeque were set up on the patio overlooking the beach and the sapphire seas, and even the bathroom was pretty classy. A distant "Ooh! _Ooh_! _Nice_!" was heard as Dyme gleefully explored the house. Arlene openly laughed as she went out to fetch the remaining bags. "Try not to break anything just yet!"

A loud, deliberate "_oops_!" was shouted back at her, followed by Dyme sprinting out merrily to help her.

She laughed harder and put her bags down, taking his hands and trying to calm his bounces. "Dyme, calm down."

Dyme merely picked her up and began to bounce in circles around the car. "I'm too happy!" She wailed and squealed in laughter the whole time then managed to pry loose and steady herself from the giddiness. "Christ, Dyme, if only you had that much energy chasing that pickpocket last week! I might still have that ring!"

"I said I was sorryyyyy!" Dyme half-wailed, grinning.

"I know you did, sweetheart," she chuckled, shaking her head. "But come on, we still have to unpack."

"Right!" Gathering up their bags, Dyme happily marched into the house, leaving Arlene to wave off their driver, then followed him inside the house, closing the door behind her. He seemed to have the energy, so she let him unpack whilst she explored a bedroom she decided was hers. "So what will the sleeping arrangements be?" she called. "We sleeping together or apart?"

"Dunno," Dyme called. "Maybe we'll adjust and sleep well apart. And what if we happen to bring home a friend?"

"Then we resort to the other bedrooooooo-waaaait, you're not going to go hunt down a boyfriend and leave me, are you?" She put on mock horror in her voice and gasped. "How _could_ you?"

"Oh, as if!" Dyme grinned. "He is sure as hell coming here, and he will _like_ it when we watch girly movies together."

"Have you been seeing someone behind my back? You sound pretty confident"

"If only!" Dyme said with a longing sigh, flopping back on his bed.

"Maybe we can go man-hunting together at one of these hot seaside clubs?" she offered, sitting on the bed with him and nudging him. Dyme sat bolt upright. "_Yes_." He grinned and giggled, rolling on his stomach and kicking his legs back and forth like a teenaged girl. Getting caught up in the mood, Arlene grabbed a pillow and lightly batted him with it, laughing.

Dyme gave a dramatic gasp. "You _hit_ me."

"And whatcha gonna do about it, boyfriend?"

He answered by ruthlessly tickling her sides, grinning deviously. The pillows fell out of her hands and she sank onto the bed squealing in laughter, sunglasses knocked askew and hands frantically moving to defend her sides. Giggling madly, Dyme continued to assault her. "You don't mess with Dyme." She smiled and laughed and squealed, but eventually began to cough and held up a hand to stop him, the other holding her chest carefully. It may have been some time since the operation, and it may have been a total success, but her heart - Ricky's heart - was still fragile, and would be for the rest of her life. The scar twinging in ache, she lay still, keeping Dyme's hands at bay and opting instead to just chuckle at him.

"Brute," she murmured.

"Sorry," he apologized, flopping down besides her guiltily. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before declaring "Let's get a cat."

"... we've been here five minutes."

"I'm just makin' plans! Get off my back, woman!"

"Says the one who was looming over me tickling." However she let him be and rested until the dull throb in her chest settled again. "So... really: do you like it?"

"I _love_ it."

A little chuckle. "It's not that big... but it's ours, I guess."

"I don't care how big it is, so long as it _is_ ours."

"Funded and contracted by yours truly, baby," Arlene assured, chuckling. "I have the deeds and original blueprints. It's ours, completely. I've signed all the documents, and I got you to sign what you needed to last year when you came of age."

"Well." Dyme sat up, smiling. "What shall we do now?"

"Well, we could finish unpacking... or just say 'fuck it' and continue fantasizing."

"Mmph: tempting...but I feel like it'll never get done if we don't do it now."

"... we _live_ here. We'll have all the time of our lives to get it done."

"You know what? You're right."

"And you won't have to be my servant anymore," she pointed out. "So guess what..." She grinned and announced, "you can sleep in. Every. Morning."

A look of joy filled his eyes. "I hadn't thought of that!"

She laughed and hugged him. "Consider it a thank you for the rest of your life."

Dyme happily hugged her back. "You are _so_ welcome, man."

"No more 5am starts," she cooed.

"I am not leaving my bed until five _PM._ And then I'm going to do whatever the hell I want."

"... I... u-uh... can't cook..." Arlene admitted awkwardly.

"Then I'll teach you, I learned how to on the job and I'm not half bad."

"Kay..." She smiled and closed her eyes, holding up a hand for him to listen. The water at the bottom of the cliff was slopping against the rocks at the base as the tide came in. Dyme sighed happily, closing his eyes too. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of hearing the ocean...

"Now tell me honestly," the woman murmured, still with eyes shut. "Did you imagine this would be happening, when you approached me outside those apartments that night?"

"Not even. I thought I'd never cross paths with you again...that I'd die in a few years." He opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling. "...none of this would've happened if we'd not been kidnapped...would it?"

"... do you still get the nightmares?"

"...yes."

She put a hand in his and squeezed. "We can't ever thank Ian for what he did. But yes; if it wasn't for him we would have moved on from each other. Maybe hated each other a while before finally forgetting. You would still be in that awful city. I would still be a stuck up, horrible, unlovable kid..."

Dyme squeezed her hand back gently. "Yeah..." He smiled guiltily. "Sorry for making you think the left side of your body would fall off."

"Well, it was true to an extent... the heart is on the left, afterall." She gave a nervous, weak smile but it fell again and she rested her head a little on his shoulder with a sigh. "... do you think the nightmares will ever stop?"

"I don't know...maybe their numbers'll thin out...but it's just so..._there..._"

"What do yours involve?"

"..." Dyme bit his lip. "Well...there's when I was in...that room. And when Tuck got shot. And finding the skeleton under the bed...and when we tried to escape..." He shuddered. "A-and some aren't memories: there's getting dragged into hell by Ian or watching you get dragged into hell by him." He didn't even want to think about the ones with Keith. She nodded and sighed.

"... mine all involve Ricky."

Dyme looked at her. "I've got dreams with Ricky in them but they're all good dreams." He sighed sadly. "I miss him."

She didn't want to talk about the ones he appeared in for her. Instead she just nodded and murmured, "I... had him buried near here. We could drive over and visit him some day."

Dyme looked at her once more, looking a little surprised but mostly grateful. "...that was a wonderful thing to do..."

"We're the only family he really has left." Aside from Ian, but that didn't need to be said. Dyme nodded, finding his vision blurring slightly with tears. "...I'm glad I met you."

"Think you're the first to ever say that, except maybe Ricky."

The man nodded, not really knowing what to say. He settled for squeezing her hand once more, listening to the beautiful rush of the ocean. It was a serene, contemplative silence that followed. Safe, but troubled. Without a sound, Arlene eventually dozed off where she lay, accidentally claiming the bed he had already adopted. He didn't seem to mind and joined her slumber soon after.

* * *

><p>The weather had turned stormy and gray, but Dyme's mood was undampened as he sauntered into their villa, making sure not to track mud and wet sand into their house. Unable to stop grinning, he hummed a cheery tune as he opened the fridge in search of food. Arlene was sat in bed, having a lazy day with a book. Some unfinished paintings were wedged into a small easel put away in the corner, with a small tabby kitten curled up at the foot of the bed in a turquoise collar. At Dyme's entrance, the kitten flicked her ears and yawned before trying to go back to sleep.<p>

After nearly inhaling an apple, Dyme slid into Arlene's room, still grinning. "Helloooo." He bounced up to her, beaming. "Whatcha reading?"

"A laughable romance where some pitiful, dumb maid winds up getting married off to a 'god-like-man-of-your-dreams' lord despite him being somewhat of a player," she drawled, tossing the book aside and smiling in satisfaction as it fell into the trash can.

"Blecch, sounds like those awful Twilight books," Dyme said, wrinkling his nose-and yet still he was unable to keep from grinning for long

"You look happy," Arlene pointed out, reaching over to pluck up the kitten and put her into her lap to give Dyme room to sit on the bed with her. "Been on the beach again?"

Dyme sat down by her, smiling widely. "Well, yes..."

"... have you met a boyyyyy?"

"... maaaybeeeeeeeeee."

At once she gave a high gasp, eyes lighting up and face cracking into a smile. Not liking the noise and recognising 'that noise' as the bringer of bouncing and clapping, the kitten sprang away. Just in time: Arlene grasped his hands in a quick lunge and squealed, "ooooh myyy gaaawddd!" Dyme gave an equally effeminate squeal, giggling uncontrollably. "I know!"

"What's he like? How do you know him? Can I meet him? Is he gorgeous?"

"He's really nice but at the same time has this authoritative air about him, I met him during that music festival a couple of weeks ago, yes you can meet him, and - " He seized Arlene's wrist, going stock still and dead silent with wide eyes. " - he's _beyond_ gorgeous."

She giggled again and gave him the kind of hug only gay men can enjoy from women, cuddling and nuzzling whilst laughing. "Oh my god, my little Dy is all growing up!"

"I'm so happy!" he trilled, cuddling her back. "We're going out to dinner on Friday."

"First date? Or..." she raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Have you been hiding behind my baaack?"

"I wouldn't be able to keep my mouth shut even if I wanted to," Dyme grinned. "First date, yeah."

"Would you like me to leave you the villa to yourselves that night?" she teased, ruffling his hair. Dyme turned bright red.

"Oh, as if we'll get that far in one night! Besides, you'll wanna hear all about it, won't you?"

"Absolutely!" She squealed again and hugged him tighter. Dyme happily held her, then looked down at her. "Think we should find _you_ a man soon?"

"Mmmm, I already have one in my life that is quite irreplaceable," she mused cheerfully, poking his nose before laughing. "I'll live."

Dyme looked genuinely touched, beaming. "Awww!"

"That old lady at the market still insists we must be lovers, even when I told her in every subtle way possible you don't go that way." Arlene chuckled as the kitten came back, determined to regain her sleeping spot and sitting between them. Dyme laughed as he stroked the kitten's head. "Heh, well, that's probably what I'd think if I saw people in our position."

"S'not like we can explain ourselves, and hey, it worked in our favour when that jerk tried flirting with me."

"That's true..." Dyme frowned at the memory of that bastard. "Oh, it would've been so great if I punched him. Moron."

"I think the making out worked well enough. Though I can't believe you freaked out once it was over. I said I was sorry like, twenty million times!"

"You caught me by surprise! And imagine a girl started making out with _you_."

"... I still said sorry." She pouted, tickling the kitten under her chin and smiling at the purr it provoked.

"Bah, whatever." Dyme gave her a gentle, affectionate shove.

"Such a bully!" Arlene faked a gasp as she let the gentle force of it put her back against her pillows.

Dyme stuck his tongue out. "Baby."

"Oh shush."

Dyme flopped down beside her, careful not to jostle the kitten. "Sooo, whaddaya wanna do now?"

"Well, there's a storm heading this way, so we can't go out. And besides, you've only just got back in. Shall we watch a movie?"

"Sure. What shall we watch?"

"Hmmmmm... I'm thinking a musical. Then we can pour some wine, and dance shamelessly to the songs."

Dyme gasped. "Me too! 30's-40's musical or a more recent one?"

"Your choice, mister 'I got a boyfriend'," Arlene teased, bumping her forehead with his. Dyme grinned and then gasped again. "Funny Girl! Let's watch Funny Girl!"

"... do we even have that?"

Dyme pulled the DVD out of his large coat pocket. It still had cyran wrap and a tag on it. "Yes."

Arlene blinked, then laughed. "Okay, you planned this, didn't you?" However, she got out of bed, picking the kitten up with her and poking him in the neck before running off so he couldn't retaliate.

"Maybe**_ee_**!" Dyme squealed and instinctively pulled his head back: he too was quite ticklish. "_Arleeene_!" He jumped to his feet and darted off in the direction she'd gone. The kitten had been put down, confused and wide eyed by the sudden moving and shouting. Arlene had hidden herself in the airing cupboard. Dyme huffed. "Arlene, where are you?"

His only answer was the girl pouncing out at him with a loud, "_Raaghrgh_!" Dyme shrieked in surprise, nearly instinctively punching her. She laughed and fell onto her behind, but then began to cough and wheeze, holding her chest. "S-so... worth it..." she chuckled breathlessly. Dyme helped her up, scowling. "Awww... heh heh... Hee... cheer... cheer up...!"

Dyme simply picked her up and began to walk to the living room. "Meh."

"Thanks..." She gathered her breath and felt her chest loosening again. "Think we scared the baby," she chuckled, referring to the kitten who had bolted.

"Heh, she'll adjust," he chuckled, plopping down onto the couch.

"We still need to name her. And no, we are _not_ calling her 'Steve'."

"_It was a joke_."

She laughed and leant over to read the back of the DVD, waving a hand dismissively in his face. "Gotta name her something nice."

"'Lady' is too much of a dog name, isn't it?"

"Just a bit. I was thinking Penny. It's a pretty name, and... well, I always felt bad that skeleton never got a family burial."

Dyme nodded, but that name still sent a thrill of fear through him when he thought back to his sister-who had also been named Penny. She'd been far more frightening than his mother.

"... something wrong?"

Dyme looked a bit uncomfortable but still shook his head. "I'm just being silly."

"... Let's not go for Penny." She wasn't sure what was bothering him, but she could take a few guesses and decided to avoid upsetting him further. "Rosie is a nice name."

"I like Rosie," Dyme murmured, grateful that she had not pressed him to tell her of his discomfort.

"We'll go with Rosie then. Now are we going to get drunk and watch this movie or not?"

Dyme grinned. "Hell yeah!"

"Then set it up, and I'll grab us the wine." Arlene ruffled his hair, then got to her feet to rummage in the kitchen. "Red or white?"

"You pick!" Dyme tore the cyran wrap off of the DVD and jumped up to pop it in the player, making sure the TV was on and on the right input. Arlene merely returned with a bottle of both, and two crystal glasses for them. She didn't sit back down completely though and disappeared back into the kitchen before returning with a little present she had got him: a miniature chocolate fountain, complete with a bowl of marshmallows and toothpicks.

Dyme's jaw dropped. "I love you."

"It's our sixth anniversary," she informed, giggling. "Thought I'd get something special."

"It's a real wonder that old woman thinks we're lovers," Dyme chuckled, beaming.

"By the way, if this new guy doesn't treat you nicer than I treat you, you are _forbidden_ on pain of breaking my heart from seeing him. So there." She sat down and helped herself to a chocolatey marshmallow before leaning back to watch the start of the movie.

Dyme laughed. "I'll keep that in mind..." He took a marshmallow for himself, unable to resist humming the opening theme. Arlene kept quiet for the sake of spending quality time with him, despite her not really getting into the film. However, she relaxed and was content to sit there eating chocolate marshmallows and sipping wine. When the movie was finally over - it was rather long - Dyme gave a sigh of content, full of marshmallows and wine. And joy. Arlene was asleep, head on his shoulder and a certain sleepy kitten in her lap.

Dyme smiled at them, gently patting the kitten's head before getting up to put the wine and chocolate fountain away, careful not to jostle the two. It was dark out, and there was a gloomy drizzle, making the waves churn grumpily. From the sofa, Arlene sighed in her sleep, whilst Rosie - disturbed by Dyme's movement - jumped off her and stalked him, mewing for attention. Dyme soon returned, smiling at the kitten.

"Hey there." He kneeled down by her, scratching under her chin. The little cat purred richly like a motorboat and licked his hand. Dyme smiled at Rosie, tickled when her rough tongue licked his palm. "You're adorable."

Her only response was to move so his hand rubbed along her back and tail, rubbing herself against his knees then mewing squeakily again.

"Gah," Dyme picked up Rosie and snuggled her, standing up and walking to his room. He retrieved a long bit of ribbon with bright feathers on the end and dangled it in front of Rosie's face, inviting her to play. She stared at it as if it had just sprung out of thin air. Her eyes dilated and went wide. The tip of her tail twitched, and she scrunched herself up on her backside... wriggled... then faceplanted at it.

Dyme giggled, tugging it juuust out of reach. "So close." Her tail was spazzing now, as she lunged again, then began patting at the toy whilst flat on her belly. Dyme let her wrangle it in her claws before pulling it a leap above her head. She almost flipped, eyes startled and back curving to watch its movements, then latch a claw on it, instantly bringing it to her mouth to gnaw. He dropped it, content to let her have her way with it for a while. Rosie bunched up her hind legs to kick the captured toy, chewing it and licking it between random flailing at invisible things she thought she saw... before resuming attacking the toy. As she did that, Arlene shuffled into the room, looking tired and troubled.

Dyme looked up, frowning at her expression. "What's wrong?"

"Had a nightmare... about Keith."

Wordlessly, Dyme strode over and hugged her tightly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"... I don't know... I've always wanted to talk about it, but... I sort of hoped it would go away..." She hugged back, sighing softly.

"Maybe it'll help if you talk about it?"

She bit her lip, then pulled away from him, drifting back to the sofa and pouring herself another glass of wine and taking a long drink. Dyme quietly followed her out, wanting to make her feel better but not quite sure how. She sat on the sofa and played with her hands in her lap. "It... it was basically re-living what he did after you escaped."

Dyme nodded, taking a seat beside her. He had never learned just what Keith had done, and he had never forced Arlene to tell him in fear of bringing up painful memories. She didn't seem keen to say anything of it even now, but sighed and lay with her head in his lap. "... I just remember wishing you would come back. Every second. I thought I was going to die. It's stupid to think about it now..."

"I'm so sorry I didn't get there sooner..." Dyme's voice was quiet but filled with emotion.

Arlene shook her head. "You did wonders enough for me then. You couldn't have done much more."

"I just...can't help wishing I'd done it all...I know there was no way I could've, but..."

"Keith would have gotten you too. You mustn't think about what might have happened otherwise."

Dyme nodded, eyes misty. "Okay."

Arlene sighed gently, then swallowed. "... y'know earlier when you said we should find me a boyfriend?" The man nodded silently, looking at her. She wrung her hands, looking sickly. "I... I don't ever want a man to remind me about... Keith... I... I don't want to have the flashbacks if someone ever got close in that way."

Dyme's stomach lurched violently as his most dreaded suspicions were confirmed. "I...see..." Before he knew it, he was hugging Arlene tightly and feeling as though he was a lost, scared teenager again. She readily accepted his embrace and clung. But the most she did was give a half-second shudder and murmur, "I'm sorry to put this on you... but do you understand now how special you are, to even have me let you hold me? If you ever meet a guy and know he's the one, all I ask is you'll think of me."

Dyme nodded. "Of course I will. You're my best friend, Arlene."

"Thank you." She sighed in relief then eventually pulled back, looking at her hands in her lap. Dyme felt as though a great weight had been placed on him, but he hoped it was because he had lifted it off of Arlene. She was aware this was a heavy moment, and cleared her throat, forcing a smile. "Pillow fight?" she offered.

Dyme looked at her, face expressionless as he grabbed a pillow and gently whacked her in the stomach. She laughed and groped about behind her for a weapon of her own, settling on a small plush cushion and whapping it on his head. He grinned and put a pillow over her face, smothering her-non-lethally of course. Her retaliation was to drop her cushion and tickle him.

"Aw no way!" Dyme let out a raucous peel of laughter and jerked, flinging the pillow away. Seizing her chance, Arlene sat up and pounced on him, tickling more and more and laughing herself. He squealed, thrashing about and protesting. "_Okay! Okay! I'm sorry_!"

She pulled back but was ready to use the 'weak heart' excuse should he try and get revenge. Still giggling, Dyme sat up. "Crazy person."

"Heh heh, but you _love_ it."

"Maybe."

She laughed and was about to start a second round, when the phone rang.

It was a hardly used thing, and they'd only even invested in one in case of emergencies, and trying job interviews, but had never given out the number to anyone else. Looking up at it, Arlene glanced at Dyme, then got up to answer it. Dyme wondered vaguely if it was for him-he'd forgotten to mention he'd given Jack his phone number.

"Hello, this is Miss Summers, who is speaking please?"

"_Hello, Emily. My haven't you grown into a fine young lady. David's grown too. But you ran from home. That's not very respectful to your Father, is it?_"

Arlene froze, blood running cold. Keep it together, keep it together.

"If this is a prank, then kindly hang up now, because that is my and Dyme's own business about what happened, and we've moved on, so whatever creep you are, probably holed up somewhere with a shrine of newspaper cutting or some other shit, leave us alo-"

"_Look up._"

She trembled and flicked her eyes up. Ian was staring through the window at her on a cell phone.

Her shriek almost broke the glass.

Dyme had instantly rushed to see what the matter was. His face turned completely white, stopping breathing completely for a second. Before he knew it, he had flung open the window and lunged at Ian, shaking hands around his neck as he pinned him down. "_L-leave,_" he hissed, but his fear couldn't be more apparent as his entire body was wracked with shakes and violent trembles.

Ian calmly gazed back. He looked a lot older. He'd got a few grey hairs now. He wasn't smiling, but nor did he seem angry. He seemed almost sad, straining his neck to defend against Dyme's shaken throttling. "Come home, children... I have lots of new brothers and sisters for you. You can be the elder siblings, like Ricky and Keith."

"Y-you seriously think we'd go back? Back to that hell?" Dyme shouted, feeling weak and sick. _"You're completely insane!"_

"Stop shouting. You're upsetting your sister."

Arlene was clutching her chest, in pain and trying with all her might to calm down and avoid giving herself a heart-attack. "D...dym...e... my medi...cation...!"

Dyme didn't hesitate in leaping off of Ian and dragging Arlene as quickly as possible to her room, digging out her medication. "I-it's right here," he cried shakily, having difficulty opening the bottle. This was insane. She was wide-eyed and sweating, breathing hoarse and getting harder by the second. A rigid hand with equally rigid fingers groped the air in desperation for him to hurry.

Ian, meanwhile, was calmly getting to his feet, dusting himself down, then cricking his neck, striding into the house.

Dyme managed to get the damn thing open, extracting a pill and getting it into Arlene's mouth, not wanting to risk waiting for her to do it herself. She lay back, whimpering as she took it, and could do little else but slump and let it do its work. She was still panting hard, but now she wasn't in obvious panic and her fitful, stiff contorting had ceased.

Ian was rifling through their kitchen, picking up a knife and smiling before putting it in his belt.

Dyme looked beyond terrified, breathing hard and shaking. _This can't be happening oh God it isn't happening this is a horrible dream that I will wake up from because THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!_

"So David," Ian mused calmly, in the doorway and watching Arlene recovering. "I trust you've been supporting your little sister properly. She looks to be of poor health. I think you might need help looking after her. I have the means to do so."

Dyme whirled around, absolutely livid as he advanced on Ian, ready to fight him off. "Get. _Out_."

"Why should I? I'm your father. It's you who obeys me, not I who obey you."

"How dare you," Dyme said in a trembling whisper. "How _DARE_ you! How dare you kidnap us, terrorize us into complying with your sick wants, try to erase all that we are and still call yourself our father!"

"Everything I've ever done was out of love, David..."

"Love? _Love_? That was no love you felt for us! And we never felt any for you! Do you think we meant it and felt good every time we called you 'dad' or said we loved you? Because you'd be sadly mistaken!"

Ian laughed sadly. "And this is why I was reluctant to let you all go: without my guidance, you become angry and confused about your lives." The psychopath shook his head, amused and saddened, as he moved around the bed and stroked Arlene's hair. "Look at the mess poor Emily is in... and look at you, David: so hysterical. Come home. I'll make it all better again."

_"DON'T TOUCH HER!"_ Dyme screamed, throat blistering from the force of it as he dragged Ian away from Arlene. The man pulled out the knife, eyes suddenly glinting with madness. Dyme saw it but didn't care, continuing to drag him as far away as possible from Arlene. In the struggle that followed, Ian thrust it into his side, keeping it there painfully deep up to the hilt. Dyme cried out in pain, grip faltering for an instant before panickedly regaining strength. And still he valiantly continued to drag Ian away, though with difficulty. Seeing the young man was determined to disobey him, Ian wrenched it out of his stomach and pinned Dyme to the ground, trying to cut Dyme's throat.

"Dad..."

He froze, opting instead to bash Dyme across the face to knock him out briefly. He rose to his feet. Arlene lay on the bed, grey and shaking. An arm was out for him to hold her. "I feel so sick... Make it go away, Daddy..." She looked ready to faint form terror, but held her nerve and her gaze.

His face fell into one of soothing sympathy, and he approached her, crawling onto the bed to embrace her. He had dropped the knife near Dyme, leaving his back exposed. What did it matter? His little girl was crying out for him. She needed his embrace, his closeness. Never mind that was he engulfed her in a cuddle, she was whimpering with tears in her eyes, body flinching.

Dyme awoke but moments later, struggling to his feet, knife in hand. Upon seeing Ian distracted, he gave him a short, shallow stab-not deep enough to kill-and threw the knife away, attacking him once more to wrench him from his friend and give them time. He looked at Arlene with an urgency that clearly said _get help!_

Arlene was still weak, but she tried. She rolled off the bed, coughing, and half-crawled, half-limped to the phone to call the police. Dyme continued to fend off Ian, feeling as though his sanity was slipping by with the minutes.

Arlene made it into the hall, scrambling up the wall and was now sobbing into the phone. Ian managed to get a decent grip on Dyme and slammed him down onto his back, sticking the knife through his arm to pin him to the floor, then getting up to wrench Arlene from the phone. Dyme struggled violently, only worsening his situation. "_Hurry_!" he screamed.

Arlene could only scream as Ian hoisted her up and tried carrying her out of the house, kicking and thumping at his spine. In a desperate bid for freedom, she picked up a lamp and smashed it on his head. He still didn't let go, but he stumbled a bit, dazed and in pain. She shrieked for Dyme, now trying to hit Ian again. Dyme wrenched the knife out of his arm, clutching it as he stumbled over, dizzy from the blood loss. He gashed down Ian's back, then tore Arlene from his grasp. _Oh God, please let the police come..._

One of the many downfalls from living a little ways out on a pretty cliff: the roads were difficult for police cars, and they were some minutes walk away from anyone else.

Arlene was crying, but her main priority was to get away from Ian and take Dyme with her. She managed to haul them both into the bedroom where Rosie was hissing, fur on end. She managed to slam the door shut just as the maniac charged. The door lurched on its hinges and she screamed, but managed to hold it shut.

Dyme slammed his back against it, crying as well. "H-how did he know...?"

"We were in the news... our pictures, our names... our real names... I'm famous... he could have easily... oh God..." Arlene was wheezing again, fighting not to collapse: her medication was _not_ available, she _had_ to calm her heart.

Another jarring thud hit the door.

"Y-you're right..." Dyme gasped from the impact, knowing Arlene could not move for her medication. "Oh G-god."

A knife ploughed through the wood like a gunshot as splinters burst out the small hole. Arlene screamed.

Dyme yelped, realizing that they would _have_ to move or risk knife wounds. "H-he's going to get in soon..." Dyme whispered in horror. Arlene couldn't answer, she was starting to have another pre-attack seizure. She slipped down the door.

"No!" Dyme's eyes widened in horror as he realized this impossible situation. "No, no, no, no!" He locked up, staring wide-eyed at Arlene.

Another knife stabbed through, a hand clawing in after and finding the handle, letting itself in.

This was it. This was the end. There were no more options, no more choices, no more chances. Dyme attacked Ian with everything he had as he entered, entirely incapable of conscious thought...

* * *

><p>As the struggle blurred on, by the time the police arrived, Ian had Dyme on the bed, poised to thrust the knife into him. As men in uniform rushed in to tackle him off and drag him out of the room, a paramedic checked Dyme over as his companion found Arlene. Dyme was weakly struggling and trying to get to Arlene, sobbing. "Arlene...p-please...be okay..."<p>

The paramedics began talking fast between each other, and another rushed in with a board to carry her to the awaiting ambulance. "Don't leave me," he whimpered, weakly reaching after her as she was taken away. A paramedic came back to led him into the ambulance, letting him know they would both require hospitalisation from their injuries. Arlene was being de-fibbed in the ambulance to restart her heart, whilst a paramedic performed CPR on and off. Dyme closed his eyes, but opened them fearfully when Ian's face seemed to burn out him. He began to whisper frightened nonsense, hyperventilating.

There was hope: as the ambulance was halfway to the hospital, Larxene's heart restarted, and better yet, she began breathing again. She was conscious, though her eyes remained shut and one of the paramedics instructed Dyme to hold her hand. He did so as if his life depended on it. "It's okay Arlene...we'll be okay..."

* * *

><p>And they were. Arlene was kept in for a week to monitor her heart. Dyme was released after a couple of days once his wounds were properly treated. A kindly neighbour from the town near the beach had looked after Rosie and tidied the house so it looked good as new again. Arlene spent a lot of time resting, but with news that Ian was now locked up for good, she found the rest uninterrupted.<p>

Dyme, conversely, was a nervous wreck for quite a few days, unable to absorb the fact that Ian couldn't hurt them anymore. He kept reliving the horrific incident and memories, even in his waking hours. It was only after his hallucinations and nightmares had become violently extreme did he consider seeking help. Arlene worried about him deeply, and when she could muster the energy, she shuffled to his room to watch over him, maybe keep his mind off things as best as she could. Today she planned to take him to the beach, even though she was still a little weak.

Dyme was currently trying to calm himself, breathing deeply and evenly to try and smooth his frazzled nerves. She had sat him along the shore, keeping hold of his hand and stroking it with her thumb. "... Dyme... please talk to me..."

"About what?" He knew perfectly well what, despite his feigned unknowingness.

"You're scaring me... ever since... that day... you haven't smiled once."

"...I'm just...a little shaken up still."

"We're both safe. He didn't get us. He'll never get us again." She put an arm around him and made him lean on her. "Why don't you go talk to that guy again: Jack, was it?"

Dyme nodded as she spoke, leaning gratefully against her. "I tried, but he's going through some tough stuff right now...family emergency, he said."

"Oh no... is there anything we can help with?"

Dyme shook his head. "I asked and he was grateful, but said there's nothing I could do." She nodded, then decided to keep him talking about Jack instead of thinking about Ian. "I still haven't met him. What's he like?"

The man managed a chuckle. "He's funny and sweet and genuine. He likes music, but doesn't play any instruments. He's got a fondness for animals."

"You two kissed yet?"

"No," Dyme said mournfully. "We're taking it pretty slow."

She chuckled and nudged him. "It'll just make it more amazing when it finally kicks off, yeah?"

Dyme smiled for the first time in a while. "Yeah."

"Then you can have gay babies and I'll be an Auntie."

Dyme gave a snort as a laugh burbled up out of him. Grinning at the sound, Larxene seized upon it and pulled him into a headlock, noogying him. "Just imagine the Christmases! All of us around the fire, the little gay-babies opening their presents while Daddy 1 and Daddy 2 smooch on the couch."

Dyme began to laugh harder, flailing. "Stop it!" he giggled, trying to escape the hold.

"Can I pleeeaaaaseeee be the bridesmaid?"

"Of course!"

"Good!" She let him go but gave him one last hair-ruffle. Dyme tried to fix his hair with little success, grinning. "Feel better?"

"Yes," Dyme said, hugging her gratefully. "...there...is something I should tell you."

"Hm?" She blinked and glanced at him.

"...my nightmares are getting extremely out of control...a-and I've even hallucinated..." He wasn't looking Arlene in the eye, fiddling with his hands now. "So I've been considering seeking help."

She swallowed and put a hand on his. "... Okay... Uh... you... you never mentioned this before... how long has this been happening, Dyme?"

"...since he showed up...I didn't tell you because you just seemed at peace, and I didn't want to ruin that with my problems."

"'Peace' is a very... over-generous way to describe it."

Dyme continued to look down at his feet, wringing his hands. "What would you call it?"

"Being scared into acceptance."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "...I think I just need to accept it."

"No," she said almost at once. "No, no I think it's good you're fighting it. I think you should go talk to someone about it. Someone other than me. Just... just get it out of your system as much as you can. I'll go with you, if you like."

"...okay..." Dyme murmured, taking her hand again. "Thank you."

"... do you want me to hire some security guards for the house?"

Dyme shook his head. "We don't have to go that far."

"... wanna sleep with me until the dreams get better?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." She hugged him again, then checked the time. "Hey, you wanna get some take out? I'm in the mood for something fattening and comforting."

"Yeah, I am too."

"... smile." She poked his stomach. Dyme's laugh turned into a wince of pain; his wound still hurt. She patted his back then got to her feet. "C'mon: let's get back home, order stupid amounts of pizza and soda, and sit in bed like lazy people."

"I do love pizza." Dyme followed suit, stretching as he stood.

"Then c'mon," she offered her his arm and chuckled. "Let's go."

Dyme smiled and hooked his arm with hers as they walked back to their home.


	5. Chapter 5

Arlene had been gone a couple of weeks for her father's funeral. The funeral itself wasn't particularly traumatic or long, nor did it particularly upset her. But with her mother remarried and the divorce having been less than kind, Arlene was claimed the next of kin, and this inherited a lot of money, business and problems. Most of those two weeks had been sorting paperwork, and selecting someone to lead in her stead. She had no intentions on letting her father's company control her life. However, she had informed Dyme via phonecall that their bank account had suddenly gained five extra zeros on the end of their total, and pleased they were provided for for many years to come, she was just driving back home, pulling up by the house.

Dyme was humming to himself as he cooked a pot of spaghetti for Arlene's return-as far as he knew, she hadn't made many stops on the way back. He bit his tongue to keep himself from grinning as he thought of went on while she was gone-he was glad he'd managed to keep it a secret for so long. He was just dumping the spaghetti into the colander when he heard Arlene pull up. "Aha..."

"Dyyyyy, I'm hooome!"

"Arlyyyyy!" Dyme abandoned the spaghetti and rushed over to hs friend, hugging her. She dropped her suitcase and giggled as he hoisted her up, hugging him back tightly. "Ooooooo, I missed you, my gay boyfriend, you!"

"And I missed you!" He twirled her around happily before setting her down, beaming. "Hope you're hungry; a lot of love went into that pasta."

"I am _starved_, baby." She strode into the kitchen, guided by the smell and grinned, giving a loud, 'Mmmmmmm!'

"Success!" Dyme bounced over to the pasta, spooning generous amounts onto both plates and dumping heated sauce on top. "Enjoy"

"You've either missed me insanely, or you have good news for me," she mused, taking a seat and picking up a fork, watching him with a big grin.

"Heh, it's a bit of both," Dyme replied, twirling some pasta on his fork. "Rosie and Angus are getting along nicely - " said cat peeked his smoky gray head around the corner. "- and I get to play at the music festival this year." He ate another bite of pasta before adding, "Oh, and I'm engaged."

Arlene grinned at the first, beamed proudly at the second, and dropped her fork at the third. "... Seriously?"

"Mmmmhm." Dyme looked absolutely radiant as he fought not to skip around. "Three days ago."

Arlene promptly freaked the fuck out. She jumped up, rounded the table and embraced him so tightly her own arms felt ready to pop off. "Oh my GOD! Oh my _GOD_! Why didn't you tell me over the phone! I would have bought something for us to celebrate with! I would have... would have... I DON'T EVEN KNOW, oh Dyme!" She squeezed him tighter, laughing.

"Can' breathe!" he wheezed, laughing as well. "Wanted it to be a surprise...and besides, we have wine and a chocolate fo_OKAY I REALLY NEED TO BREATHE NOW_!"

She let him go only by a tiny amount, still hugging him and nuzzling into his hair. "Oh man... Heh... heh heh... I thought you two would never get round to it... Oh God... How did it happen? Who asked first? Tell me everything!"

Dyme absolutely beamed. "It was Jack. It'd been on my mind for such a long time, but I didn't want to pressure him into anything. He took me out to that great hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant that I love - the one that I can never pronounce - and then we walked down to the beach right by it, and it was sunset, and he suddenly looks at me and goes 'you know what? Let's get married.'"

"And then what? What did you say? What did you do?"

"I stared at him for a second, and then I think I tackled him, and then we laughed a lot and kissed a bit and went to his place a-and watched a movie." Well, it wasn't a lie - they _had_ watched a movie. After other things. Arlene, however, wasn't a fool.

"So how is he in bed?"

Dyme choked on his bite of pasta, tomato red. "I-I don't know what you're...oh, _fine_. He's damn good."

"And does he treat you with respect?"

"Oh, definitely. He was really great..." _REALLY great. Heh._

"So when's the wedding?" Arlene asked now, still holding him but now grinning up at him excitedly.

"Next May, we don't want to barrel headfirst into it."

The girl giggled and squeezed him tightly, nuzzling into his chest. "God... God, Dy... I'm so happy for you...!" Dyme hugged her back blissfully.

"Heh, I'm so happy for me too!" He nuzzled her hair before his stomach gave an indignant growl. "Shush, I'm having a moment." At that she laughed even harder and nuzzled his belly. "I'm too excited to eat now!"

"Awww, I made it special for you!" Dyme mock-pouted, poking her playfully.

"Then force feed me: it might stave me off squeezing the life out of you."

Dyme grinned and took her fork, twirling saucy pasta on it. He began to poke about her mouth with it, getting it covered in sauce. "Mmmmmm..." She laughed and opened her mouth to lick off the sauce but he was poking it so much it got half-in and she decided to take it instead. "Here comes the aiiirplane; open the haaaangar... NOM NOM NOM NOM."

"Hahaa, what the hell is wrong with y-" she was silenced in mid-laugh as the fork was thrust in and she almost choked trying to chew and swallow with a straight face.

Dyme grinned as she struggled with the huge mouthful of food. "Yummy."

She swallowed it eventually and licked her mouth clean before teasing, "should I warn Jack this is what you do at dinner?"

"Oh, shut up," he said merrily as he returned to his own food. She laughed and returned to her own food, but was too excited to think much about it and as soon as it was all gone she was back to harassing him again, cuddling and cooing and teasing. Dyme giggled as he finished his pasta, playfully pushing at Arlene. "Leave me aloooone."

"But when you get married you'll leave me all alooooone!"

"Like hell I will!" Dyme snuggled her. "You're still my best friend. And Jack likes you quite a bit."

"... well we _do_ have two bedrooms," she reasoned, winking at him. "You guys can stay here."

"Pffft, no way am I leaving you all alone! Besides, Jack and I already talked about it and he's totally fine with living here."

"And why shouldn't he be? Our house is awesome," she announced, puffing out her chest proudly.

"I know, right?" Dyme grinned.

"And we happen to be millionaire's now," she reminded him, chuckling.

"That _still_ hasn't sunk in yet."

"Hun, you've been living with an heiress for about ten years now, you'd think you'd get used to the good life," she laughed, playing with the cats. Dyme chuckled as he watched them leap and prance about Arlene. "We still haven't decided where we want the wedding yet. It's beautiful here, but it'd be great to go to a different country."

She smiled and reminded him, "it's not like there's a limit on the budget." She picked up Rosie and stroked in her arms before putting her on Dyme's lap and hugging him again. "Hey: anything you boys want, I'll order for you. Anything at all."

"You're a saint," Dyme said with a smile, hugging her back. "Scotland or Ireland would be beautiful..." he mused.

"I've been to Scotland. Mountains and snow, and beaches where you can look out and see England, Wales and Ireland all at once."

"Ooooh, that sounds wonderful..." Dyme happily pictured the sight. "Italy or France would be good, too."

"Well first - as horrible as it sounds - we need to think where it'd be _legal_ to have a same sex marriage."

"Damn, you're right, I'd forgotten about that..." Dyme frowned a little.

"In the UK, it's kind of legal but not. Instead of marriage they have 'civil partnerships'."

"Balls." Dyme thought for a moment. "There's New York, right? I've always wanted to go there."

"Hey, I'm probably rich enough to bribe people, come to think of it."

"Yes, but...I don't know. I'd feel kind of bad." Dyme's face lit up. "We can always have the honeymoon somewhere else..."

She chuckled and took his shoulder, "well, you guys still have a fair few months to go. I'm sure you should be discussing this with Jack. Let's save it for tonight, yeah?"

"Hehe, you're right...in the meantime, shall we get drunk and watch Gone With the Wind so we can bitch out Scarlet?"

"Oh that does sound fun."

"Shall I get the wine.?"

"Oh yes please."

Dyme merrily skipped off to fetch the bottles and glasses. Arlene laid on the couch, leaving him a seat at the end if he so wished. Propped up on cushions, she set up the TV via remote: the DVD was already in the player. Soon she had two cats on her, kneading their claws into her breasts and stomach, but she was used to that. A thought struck her and she called to Dyme, "you reckon I'm going to become a crazy cat lady?"

"Oh, totally," Dyme called back, walking in with the glasses and bottles.

"Greeeeat. Won't be long: you'll fly off with your new husband all over the world, whilst weak, poor little Arlene stays here on her own; with _cats_."

"Awww, will it make you feel better to know that you're my favorite crazy cat lady?"

"I ought to put a bell-collar on you and some fuzzy ears. And a tail. I'm sure Jack would like that." Dyme blushed slightly but grinned as he took a seat next to her. "You know, I think he would."

"Aw, and here I thought you'd protest. I know what my wedding present to you will be then."

Dyme grinned sheepishly and fidgeted, pouring himself some red wine. She smiled at him as he joined her, then in a more serious voice, mumbled, "I'm really happy for you. You deserve someone good in your life."

"You say that like you aren't that person. Because you have been, are, and always will be."

Arlene smiled wider and laughed both nervously and gratefully. However, she pulled him down to sit by her, she asked, "will Jack understand that? I don't want him to think I'm trying to rob you from him."

"He'll understand," Dyme reassured her. "He doesn't know much about our ordeals, but he knows that we've been through them and he respects our unbreakable bond."

She nodded, a little assured, then took his hand, squeezing. "... you may have to tell him every detail one day... be prepared if that is the case."

"I know," Dyme said quietly. "And I am."

She nodded and gave him a hug, before letting him go and picking up her glass of wine to enjoy the movie.

* * *

><p>Dyme leaned against her, becoming tipsier and tipsier as the long, <em>long<em> movie went on. By the end of it, he was sobbing into Arlene's shoulder. "S-scarlet is s-such a whore!"

Unable to drink quite as much due to her heart, Arlene just patted his shoulder and cuddled him, assuring him, "yes she is." She used the remote to turn off the TV, and announced, "there: I got rid of her." Dyme hugged her tightly, bawling out a thank you. Angus looked confused and sidled over to Rosie, tail waving. "Hey, shall we get you to bed?" Arlene offered gently, whilst Rosie was busy grooming herself.

"Okay," Dyme sniffled as a disheartened Angus trotted off.

"Goooood..." She managed to get him on his feet though it was a bit of an effort. Shuffling him into his bedroom she got him into bed then crouched at the bedside, asking, "want me to sleep here or my room?" Dyme couldn't answer - he was already asleep. A neglected-feeling Angus slipped under his arm, cuddling close to him.

Arlene sighed and went to go to her own bedroom when Rosie ran in mewling and jumped up onto the bed with Dyme, instantly curling up tight. Arlene sighed again: apparently she was sleeping alone tonight. Angus blinked up at Arlene, amber eyes shining. "Mew?"

"... you want me to stay?"

"Mrrrowwww."

She chuckled. "Give me two minutes then." She returned in said two minutes dressed in silk pyjamas, and slipped into bed beside him, though the cats were making it difficult to find space. Angus cuddled up to her the moment she was settled, gently batting a paw against her face. Rosie chose the much 'less intrusive' method of sitting on her chest and pinning her there.

"... thanks guys. Love you too." Angus simply snuggled up closer, purring deeply.

Kind of pinned down by both the cats, Arlene closed her eyes and petted them both before finally falling asleep. She had a nightmare, but that was hardly anything new, and it didn't intrude on the waking world. Instead she awoke late and feeling a little sickly.

Dyme was still there, sleeping deeply and soundly. Angus had shimmied over to cuddle him at some point and lifted his head to look questioningly at Arlene. Ignoring the cats, Arlene watched him, then suddenly felt gloomy, looking up at the ceiling. He had someone else to love on a more intimate level then the two of them shared. Which she was really happy for him about. But she'd never have that with anyone, thanks to Keith. She refused to expose herself to that kind of situation ever again. And as much as he insisted otherwise, at some point, they would have to seperate, especially now he had a new factor in his life. Suddenly feeling lonely, she wriggled over to him and hugged him.

In his sleep, Dyme sighed and hugged Arlene slightly, snuggling up to the warmth. She didn't want to disturb him, but she had a lot on her mind. She began getting worse thoughts: if she died, she wanted him to get her money. Her heart still had another ten to twenty years on it before... well, it was highly unlikely she'd find another donor, but who knows? She was filthy rich, someone might be available if she twisted a few strings. But any shock could end her: a balloon popping. Party poppers. A loud clap of thunder. A tile falling off a roof. An ignorant person who didn't know any better trying to scare-prank her. She hated to admit it, but she was fragile. She hugged him tighter. She hated nights like this, when her brain turned against her.

Dyme's eyes fluttered open. "Arlene?" he murmured. "You okay?"

She didn't answer, realising she was crying and knowing once she opened her mouth she'd be unable to stop bawling. Dyme hugged her close, trying to comfort her. After a time, she cried properly, but still with some dignity, trying to stay quiet and not make a damn fool of herself, but it was hard.

"Was it a nightmare?" Dyme murmured, rubbing her back.

She shook her head, crying harder. Yes, the nightmare had been bad but she was used to them. This was something new and awful, and she couldn't tell him because then he would feel guilty.

Dyme looked worried and confused. "Arlene, please, tell me what's wrong."

She managed to get one croaked noise out before she was in floods of noisy tears, highly frustrated at herself for falling apart so pathetically. She just about managed to cry, "don't leave me!' through the sobbing.

Not gettiing what she meant, Dyme held Arlene tighter. "I'm right here."

She forced herself to calm down, wiping her eyes before hiding her face in his chest and miserably explaining, "I'm going to lose you."

Dyme was stunned for a moment before holding her tightly. "Oh, Arlene..."

"It's stupid, I know, but let's face it! One day you're going to go get a proper life, and I will have to stay here and die alone and I'm so happy for you, I really really am, and I _know_ this is selfish, this is even more selfish than what I was before we knew each other, but I can't cope with that right now, I just can't! I've lost my parents, I've never had any friends, and the one friend I do have is going to have such a wonderful time that I won't belong with him anymore and I can't bare it!" She burst into greater floods of tears.

"...you think I'd just abandon you?" Dyme's voice was quite quiet but the hurt in it was apparent.

"It's not just that. You know my heart won't last forever. Oh God, I'm just so scared."

Dyme hugged Arlene tightly, not sure of what to say. "Arlene..."

"I'm just being stupid, I'm sorry, I should be happy and looking forward to this, and I _am_, it's just I've realised I have no other f-friends."

Dyme rubbed her back soothingly as she wept. "Why don't we go out and find you some?"

She pushed her head in his neck then and admitted, "I... I don't _want_ anyone to get close to me... I can't... I can't let them touch me..."

"...have you considered seeking professional help for this? When I was having my hallucinations, the therapy cured almost everything." Except for his deathly fear of needles.

"Would... would you come with me, if I did? I'm scared to be alone with other people. Those two weeks without you were hell, even though I knew some of my dad's business partners."

"Of course I would."

"Thanks..." She hugged him tighter, then bit her lip. "... I'm being silly, aren't I?"

"No." Dyme looked down. "I'd be feeling the same were I in your position."

"Sorry I woke you."

"It's okay. I'm glad you got this out."

She closed her eyes and squeezed him again, then sighed. "Go back to sleep. I'll be okay."

"All right." Dyme smiled at her. "I'm always here for you, no matter what happens. Don't forget that, okay?"

"Kay... Jack's so lucky to have you."

Dyme simply nuzzled her sleepily in reply.

* * *

><p>Arlene was walking back from the town along the beach, a few bags of food in her hands as she took her time gazing out across the water and getting lost in her thoughts. The lights were coming on at the house on the cliff. She'd left Dyme there as he was waiting on a call from his fiancé. She hoped she wouldn't come home to catch them about to do the nasty again. As happy as she was for him, the walls of the house weerreen't that soundproof... She walked up the path that wound round to the house, and opened the door.<p>

She didn't quite catch him at first, walking in a short ways hoping to put the bags in the kitchen. However, once a little ways into the house, she saw his face and heard him talk. She instantly put the bags down and stalked up to him, hand on his shoulder.

Dyme was holding the phone to his ear silently as someone talked, looking rigid and pale. "...I see." His voice was quiet and trembled slightly, hardly acknowledging Arlene. "I'll be there as soon as possible. Thank you for letting me know. Goodbye." He hung up the phone with a shaking hand, looking as though he was about to faint.

"Dyme...?"

Dyme looked at Arlene. "Jack's father called. He's been in an accident."

She paused, then rubbed his shoulder, wordlessly moving him to sit down and crouching in front of him. "... is it really bad?"

Dyme nodded wordlessly, looking shaken. "Yes. I said I'd be there as soon as I could. His dad's really upset."

"... I'll drive you. You look too shaken to drive. Come on."

"Okay." Dyme took her hand for comfort, taking a shaking breath in. She squeezed his hand tightly and pulled him into a hug before whispering calmly, "we have to go. Think you can get to the car?"

"Yes." He got to his feet, turning quickly and setting off to hide the fact his eyes were wet. Arlene knew he was highly upset but knew hanging around wouldn't get him there any faster. She followed him and got into the driver's seat after locking the house, then quickly sped them off to Jack's place. When they got there, Arlene parked up, but leant over and hugged him tightly, pecking his cheek. "Do you want me to go in with you?"

"Yes. Please."

"Okay," she whispered, squeezing him again before getting out the car and waiting for him. Dyme slid out of the car, hugging her for comfort once more before walking up to the door and knocking. Waiting for the answer, Arlene held his hand tightly and rubbed her thumb on his knuckle to soothe him. Dyme squeezed her hand back as the door swung open. A tall man with olive skin and curly black hair stood there, looking tired and upset. "Come in."

Arlene glanced at Dyme, then took him by the shoulders from behind, guiding him into the house and giving the man a polite nod of thanks for inviting them in. Jack's father nodded back at Arlene, shutting the door behind him as he ran a hand tiredly through his hair. He guided them to the living room, sinking into a chair.

"What exactly happened?" Dyme asked quietly.

"Attempted suicide," Jack's father said grimly. When Dyme looked panicked, he hastily added, "Not on Jack's part. An old woman suddenly slammed into his car. Rolled six times. What really _gets_ me is that she was wearing her seatbelt." Anger was behind his voice.

"Jesus Christ: if you're going to do something like that, you _don't_ drag innocents in..." Arlene hissed, a hand on Dyme's shoulder at all times. Dyme nodded numbly, looking sick.

"Exactly! She got her wish, though," Jack's father said bitterly. "She died on the way to the hospital." The rage seemed to leave him as his shoulders slumped and he sighed. "...Jack's in critical condition. His chances of living are not good."

Arlene's hands squeezed Dyme tightly, and she was quiet for a moment, before asking, "what are his injuries? Maybe we can help."

"Broken legs, broken ribs, concussion, internal bleeding in his lungs..." Jack's father just shook his head sadly.

"I can get the best doctors money can buy. I can have him moved to a specialist hospital," Arlene suggested weakly.

"Just...anything to help him. Please."

She instantly fumbled about for paper and pen, scribbling. "Where is he staying currently? What's the most significant injury?"

Dyme didn't seem to be hearing Jack's father relay the information to Arlene. He was staring blankly at his hands, numbly silent. She wrote down everything he said, then made a few phone calls urgently. By the time she sat back next to Dyme and pulled him into a cuddle, she had organised for an air ambulance to head over to Jack's hospital and get him to a mind-staggeringly expensive but top-knotch hospital some miles away. It was her best effort, and it had easily just stripped two zeros off their bank total. She didn't care. She wanted Jack to pull through for Dyme's sake.

Dyme hugged Arlene tightly back, squeezing his eyes shut. Jack's father was looking simply exhausted. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"I can drive us there right away if you want to be with him," she offered gently, to both of them. "The helicopter will probably get there hours before us, but still..."

"Yes," his father murmured, nodding slightly. "That would be appreciated."

She got up at once, pulling Dyme with her and leading them out to the car. Before she started the engine though, she gave him another tight hug and whispered it would all be okay, stroking his back. Dyme held her tightly, breaking his despondent silence by whispering 'thank you.'"

One last squeeze, then she pulled away to turn on the engine and drive them there. It was a long and tense journey, and by the time they got there it was early morning. She got out the car and found directions to Jack's current bed. Dyme and Jack's father followed her up to it. Jack's father turned white upon seeing Jack, and Dyme clutched Arlene's hand as if to keep himself grounded.

Jack was almost completely unrecognizable, covered in bandages. The skin that was visible was covered in bruises, burns, and cuts.

Arlene left them to it and started a hushed conversation with the team of doctors all assigned specifically to that one patient. It paid to go exclusive: fifteen other patients, fifty doctors: each of those patients got several professionals and the best treatment money could buy... but still... After talking with them about his chances and what they planned to do, she returned to Dyme and embraced him tightly.

Dyme buried his face in her hair, eyes shut tightly. "What are his chances?" he whispered.

"... A lot of time has passed. It's not looking good," she whispered back, clutching him tight. "They're going to operate. They have to. They need to stop the internal bleeding in the next hour, or..." She trailed off, then kissed his cheek. "They need his dad to give blood. And lots of it."

Dyme couldn't hold back a whimper, but he managed to keep the floodgates shut. For now. Even as she spoke, the doctors began wheeling his bed away, and she squeezed him, murmuring, "Dyme... Dyme, baby... sit down. Come sit with me, yeah? I'll get you a hot tea or something, and we can just sit, and hope for him, okay?" She sounded desperate, despite her hush. She didn't want him to panic. Dyme nodded, looking sickly and pale. Keeping a firm hold on him, Arlene approached Jack's father and informed him of the details, then left him to the care of the doctors, focusing now entirely on Dyme. She sat him down in a beanbag near the patient café and handed him a steaming mug of tea.

He clutched it for a moment, feeling the heat before taking a sip. It was comfortingly warming, but did little to ease the knot of tension in his stomach.

"Dyme..." She rubbed his knee soothingly, gazing up at him as she knelt. "... Talk to me..."

"...I'm so scared..." he whispered.

"I know, sweetheart." She moved her other hand to rub his arm. "I know. And I wish I could tell you 'stop being so silly, he'll be perfectly fine'... but the truth is, this is a genuinely scary time. For Jack, for his family, for you, even me, Dyme. He's going to be my brother in law, I want him to pull through too. It's okay to be afraid, Dyme. No one is... is going to shout at you, or judge you, or complain if you need to cry. No one. And if they did, I'd floor them."

Dyme weakly smiled at the last bit, but his hands began to tremble as he clutched the mug. "It's...just...there will have been so much I wanted to do or say...so much time lost."

"I know." She took his mug and set it down nearby, taking both his hands and squeezing them. "God, I want so badly for him to pull through. He's got the best money can buy. We've given all we can. Now all we have left is faith."

"Yes," Dyme murmured, squeezing her hands back. He'd remembered all the times he'd prayed for help when he was trapped in the horrible place...and it had come. She leant closer and hugged him, head nuzzling his stomach. Accepting her, he held her tightly, squeezing his eyes shut.

"... Might get a drink myself, actually," she said quietly after a while, looking pale and tired. She'd been driving all night.

"You should," Dyme murmured to her. She sighed and got up, a hand in his hair before she slunk off to get a drink, returning to sit with him.

* * *

><p>Dyme didn't know how much time had passed, and he didn't care. All he knew was that his tea had long since grown cold, and Jack was not here with him. A doctor slipped into the café, recognizing and walking over to Arlene and Dyme, looking extremely grave.<p>

Arlene was close to sleep, the caffiene not yet kicking in and the long day and night taking its toll. However, upon hearing footsteps she groggily looked up. At the look on the doctor's face, Dyme's stomach lurched. "Yes?" he asked quietly.

"I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news," she said in a rather gravelly voice. "The operation failed."

Arlene was awake enough to hear and understand that, but it took a horrible few seconds of a stomach-plummet and a queasy headache for it to properly sink in. At once, she clutched Dyme's hand. Dyme looked simply blank, face white, eyes dead. "Are we allowed to see him?" he whispered.

The doctor nodded. "Follow me." She turned on her heel and began to walk off. Dyme silently rose and followed her, still looking emotionless. Arlene was torn between giving him some space, or following. In the end, she went as far as the door, then waited outside, hugging herself and biting her knuckle.

It was a while before Dyme returned, this time with Jack's father. Jack's father looked as though he was fighting not to cry, and Dyme was still horribly blank.

Arlene didn't know what to say, or do. She trembled in anxiousness, then silently walked up to them both, arms open.

Jack's father hung back, but Dyme accepted her hug, silently crying in her arms. She clutched him tightly, pushing her face into his hair and stroking his back firmly, crying quietly; apologising for not being able to help, and for being so useless, and for not being able to do something more, and for everything she felt responsible for.

"It's not your fault," Dyme whispered. "There's no way you could've done more than you did."

"I'm still sorry," she breathed tearfully, before clutching him as tight as she could and swaying him. Dyme wept, but didn't completely break down until they'd returned to their home, clutching at Arlene, sobbing and shaking. Arlene was close to dropping dead on her feet, but stayed awake only to keep him company. She put him to bed, gave him a hot water bottle, made him another drink and had alcohol on hand should he think it was the only way he'd get to sleep. She put on one of his CDs as a gentle background noise then cuddled him tightly, bundling them both in blankets as she stroked his hair and held him. After a while, she pecked his forehead then whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry..." for what felt like the hundreth time that day.

Dyme was too physically and emotionally exhausted to reply, simply hugging her to him and closing his puffy eyes. Exhausted and drained, it wasn't long before Arlene slumped beside him, still holding him.

Dyme's sleep was plagued by nightmares, causing him to wake up several times in the night. By the time it was light, he was feeling as terrible and empty as the night before. Arlene looked dead to the world, having let her arms slip from him in the night, and laying looking pained. Her eyes were puffy red and her skin unnaturally warm. Dyme looked blearily over at her, feeling his stomach drop. "Arlene?" he asked in a raspy whisper. Dyme looked blearily over at her, feeling his stomach drop. "Arlene?" he asked in a raspy whisper.

The woman didn't stir, though she was breathing deeply. Dyme gave a slight sigh, closing his eyes again and curling up in hope of a decent rest.

* * *

><p>Arlene had been fed up. She was now in her mid-thirties, and had never yet found a guy she trusted to get intimate with. Her therapist had been kind of cute, but... he knew too much about her. He could use anything he had learnt against her and... and...<p>

Damn trust issues.

But this guy seemed different. So nice, and sweet, and willing to buy drinks. She shouldn't have drunk so much, not with her heart, but she had been miserable and he had been all too eager to help her out. He even generously drove her home and carried her to her room. And when he stooped to give her a long, hard goodnight kiss, how could she refuse? Feeling a little hot from the summer heat and the way he held her, it wasn't long until she was half-stripped and he was getting much of the same. But when he began to touch and grope under her bra, her brain began to flash warning signs, and the flashbacks came back. She mumbled a quiet 'no', but he honestly didn't hear, and he didn't understand her squeezing hands on his wrists were a plea to stop. She squeaked and squealed then gave a little cry, struggling a little and feeling at her side in panic. She knocked the lamp off the bedside cabinet and he removed his mouth from hers. She unleashed a scream of fright and recoiled as he backed off, confused.

Dyme was driving up after a night of harassment from a religious group after a small concert downtown showcasing obscure artists, feeling bitter and angry at the memory of the words they'd flung at him. Still steaming as he walked into the house, he froze at the sound of the scream and was with Arlene in a heartbeat, dragging the man away from her. "The hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"Shit man, I swear, I weren't doing nothing! I swear!" the guy protested in shock. "Who the hell are you!"

"The man who's about to beat the shit out of you if you don't get out. _Now._"

"L-listen, buddy, I swear, okay, I swear I wasn't doing _anything_," the man was backing out the room, but seemed desperate to clear his name. "Look, I bought her some drinks, we had a good time, I swear!"

Dyme was advancing on him. "Oh, so you got her drunk and took advantage of her?"

"Look, I know how it looks...! You gotta believe me, don't call the cops or nothing, seriously man!"

"Then get the hell away from here and don't fucking come near her again!"

He didn't need to be told twice and bolted out the door, leaving his shirt in Arlene's room, and his unbuttoned jeans falling down about his ankles as he stumbled away.

In the bedroom, Arlene had crawled under the covers, shaking madly. Dyme was at her side once more. "Arlene, are you okay?"

She flinched away from him, whispering fitfully over and over, "I'm a good girl, I'm a good girl, I'm a good girl."

Dyme's stomach twisted in revulsion and rage. He closed his eyes, tears falling. "Oh, Arlene..."

She didn't snap out of it until about fifteen minutes, and even then, she was quiet. Unnaturally so. She curled in upon herself and shivered violently. Dyme tried to approach her again. "Arlene?" he asked softly.

"... is he gone...?"

"Yes."

"... Thank you." She peered her head out from under the blanket and beckoned him closer. Dyme walked up and kneeled by her. "What happened?"

"I got lonely. I'm sorry. I just needed someone to hold me while you were gone, and then we had some drinks, and then came back here and I was happy but then h-he touched me and I just... I just couldn't... I told him no, but he didn't stop."

Dyme's eyes were filled with sadness. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you." Arlene sighed into her blanket, then sat up, hugging herself. "No: you wanted to go have fun. I just need to learn I'm better off staying in while you're gone."

"Why not come with me next time?"

"... could I? You wouldn't find it a bother?"

"Arly, I could never find you a bother." He felt bad that he hadn't made it clear earlier that he wanted her to go with him to these things. She played with the blanket a little, then asked timidly, "you won't make me show off my dancing will you?"

Dyme chuckled. "Not if you don't want to."

"I know you said I should think about performing, but I couldn't take people staring at me," she sighed, leaning back into the pillows and shivering.

"I know how that feels," Dyme said. "Nearly fainted at my first performance."

"I remember that," she managed a small smile. "You looked fantastic out there. I was cheering for you all the way. It's a shame I didn't go to more of them that the first few... but what with that scare with my heart... I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I understand." Dyme gave her a small smile, but it faltered slightly when he realized her heart probably hadn't many more years in it. She caught it and found her face falling a tiny bit too, and she went quiet, looking at her hands. Dyme took one of them squeezing it.

"... I have my doctor on speed-dial," she half-assured him as well as herself in a murmur, still not meeting his gaze.

Dyme nodded, gently rubbing her hand with his thumb. "I know."

"I'm on the waiting list. If they get anymore donors." She didn't have the strength to let him know she might get taken off it at any time, though. She could no longer afford to flaunt her cash as a way of being fast-tracked into a gaurenteed donor. She had been rejected many years prior when she'd tried, due to already having one in her life. This one could easily be rejected once the doctors observed she was already on a borrow heart. She'd already written the will and everything. It hurt to make such preperations, but at least if the worst happened, it would all be taken care of. She smiled back at him weakly and put her arms around him.

Dyme hugged her tightly back. "...thank you."

"For what?"

"For...everything."

"Little more specific, maybe...?" she whispered.

"For being my friend, for saving me, for letting me take Rosie home, for being there for me after Jack died."

"Hey... I owe you much more than you owe me."

Dyme blinked. "You do?"

"You came to help me that night, even though I spat at you, swore at you, called you names. I treated you like something on the bottom of my shoe, but you came back for me when they caught me. You held me when I cried. You ran to save us both that day you escaped, and you cried for me when you thought I was dead. You... you _cared_. And it's because you cared - you actually took the time to save me from myself - that I'm the woman I am today. Dyme, without you... I'd probably be murdered by my family's business partners all wanting my shares. I'd probably think a dollar was worth more than a smile, that no one would ever understand me and no one would ever need to, as long as I could buy their time. You made me human."

"No," Dyme murmured thoughtfully. "I reckon the human was always in there: she just needed a little real kindness to get out."

"... Sometimes I wonder what would have happened without Ricky. He helped me too. Still helps me to this day, heh."

"Me too..." Dyme smiled fondly but sadly. "I think we would've either broken or killed ourselves without him."

Arlene paused, then murmured, "but he also helped capture us in the first place. It's... it's an odd thing to think. But it wasn't his fault, was it? He didn't know any better. I forgive him for that."

"Yeah, me too. He seemed to genuinely feel bad doing it, didn't he?"

She nodded then sighed, a hand on her chest. "... It's been too long since we went to his grave."

"Shall we go now? Or get some rest and go tomorrow?"

"I won't be able to sleep after... tonight... y'know." She nervously gathered her clothes from where she'd been stripped a little and hugged them to her. "Give me a little while."

"Of course." Dyme stood and exited the room to give her privacy, standing just outside the door. She got dressed, still a little shaken, but once fully clothed she left her room and gave him a smile to show him she was okay. "Can... can you drive tonight, Dyme?"

"Of course I can." Dyme smiled, hugging her gently before leading her out to the car. She happily followed him and got in the passenger seat, watching the countryside roll by until they reached Ricky's private little hollow. The honeylocust tree growing above his white gravestone was in its full glory. Dyme smiled at seeing it. "It's beautiful..."

"I've had a gardener tend to him three times a week," Arlene smiled gently. Getting out of the car and walking over to stop a respectful distance from the grave. Dyme stood by her, entwining his fingers with hers. "S'really paid off."

"I'm sorry it's been so long," Arlene said gently to the stone, letting go and kneeling back to bow her head at it. "We've been busy growing up, but we always think of you."

"Every day," Dyme testified softly as he too kneeled.

"Rosie and Agnus are getting on in years now. Getting lazier than ever." Dyme smiled at the thought of the plump cats with their creaky joints snuggling warmly in their beds at home. Arlene stayed quiet for a while, then leant her head on Dyme's shoulder, smiling. "... your little brother's made us both proud. Been performing. He's amazing. He takes good care of me."

Dyme chuckled. "You flatter me."

"Don't listen to him, Ricky. It's all true."

He shook his head, chuckling. "Whatever."

"... we should've bought flowers."

Guilt crossed his face. "You're right."

"You... can have some of mine..." a male voice spoke up timidly, as if in shock, from behind them.

Dyme jumped slightly and turned to see who it was.

A man a fair few years younger was stood, looking just as shocked as they were. He cleared his throat and fingered the collar of his shirt, loosening his tie. "... I'm... I'm sorry if I interrupted... I'll wait..."

Arlene got up, suddenly defensive. "Who are you? You're not welcome here, this is privately owned property and you are trespassing."

The man glanced between them, then cleared his throat again, announcing weakly, "... It's been a while... and... and I had to get surgery after the fire... It's me... it's Leo..."

* * *

><p>Dyme's eyes turned to the size of dinner plates. "...L...<em>Leo?<em> You survived?"

The man swallowed, then nodded, scuffing his foot and hugging the flowers to his chest. "... I died for twelve minutes. They brought me back though, then spent the next four years reconstructing my face and body... I never knew what happened to you or the others... I was adopted... I only recently found this was where Ricky was buried. I... I just felt lonely tonight and wanted to speak to him."

He paused, then announced awkwardly, "My name is Daniel."

"..."_This is overwhelming._ "...Daniel...it's...good to see you again." And it was.

Arlene could only hug herself, then hold out her hand awkwardly. "Arlene..." Daniel gazed at her nervously, then shuffled closer to accept her hand, shaking it. Dyme extended his own hand. "I'm Dyme..."

"Arlene. Dyme." He nodded to them both in turn, then looked down at his flowers again. They were a snow-white colour, delicate but soft petals. His skin looked much of the same from seeing them there. His hair was a mop of groomed hazel, and he was taller than Arlene by just an inch. "Am I... welcome to join you?"

"Yes." Dyme nodded. "Most definitely." He nodded in thanks and then sheepishly shared out his flowers between them, then shuffled closer to the grave to lay them down. Arlene followed suit, then glanced at Daniel. "Would you like some time alone with him?"

"... please? I'll only be a couple of minutes... he dragged me out of the fire."

Dyme nodded, backing away to the car. Arlene joined him, and watched Daniel from a distance as he knelt and began just silently contemplating before the grave. She glanced at Dyme then took a breath out. "... wow."

Dyme nodded, feeling rather weak in the knees. "Wow indeed."

"I was told only I made it out alive..." Arlene murmured, rubbing the back of her head.

"Why would that be?"

"I don't know..." She sighed then leant on him. "This is certainly... weird." Daniel was finishing his time with Ricky and played with the flowers a little before getting off his knees and backing off to stand respectfully with hands clasped at his front, head bowed.

"To put it mildly," Dyme replied, watching Daniel. "Do you think the other one survived?" He couldn't remember the boy's name.

"... I don't know... they told me everyone had died but me and Ricky."

"I wonder if they told Daniel everyone had died but him."

Arlene shook her head to say she didn't know, then pulled off the car to approach Daniel to find out more. At her approach, he turned and gazed over his shoulder, then asked awkwardly, "so are you two...?" he trailed off with a sheepish hand gesture. A pause, then Arlene saw his meaning and shook her head quickly. "No, no no no, we're not like that. We're living together and we couldn't live without each other, but there's nothing romantic going on." Dyme was reminded painfully of Jack and sighed slightly, feeling suddenly melancholy. Catching the sigh, Arlene quickly changed the subject. "So what happened to you?"

"Well, got most of my body rebuilt, then was adopted up North by a bunch of Christians. We... had a dispute when I was older, so I left home. Hitch-hiked about, drifted. Finally settled just East of here over the county border. You two?"

Dyme was silent as the thought about all that had gone on. Would it be a good idea to tell Daniel that Ian had found them again? Perhaps not...

Seeing Dyme wasn't going to contribute, Arlene sighed and said, "... Ricky gave me his heart."

Daniel raised an eyebrow at that, then cleared his throat as that sank in. "I... see."

"Dyme then came to live with me and my parents, before we moved to the coast East of here. Lived there ever since."

Daniel shuffled his feet, then offered, "I... I do seem to live not far... you... like to come for dinner some time?"

"I wouldn't mind that," Dyme murmured.

"Great... Uh... when are you guys free?"

"We don't have much planned, do we?"

Dyme shook his head. "No."

"You okay?" Arlene murmured.

"Just feeling a little...overwhelmed," he murmured back.

Daniel fidgeted then pulled out a tissue, writing his phone number on it in bleeding ink. "Call me when you're good to organise... I'll... I'll leave you with Ricky..." Arlene took it and tried to protest that he could stay, but he was already nervously leaving.

Dyme looked at Arlene. "He's just the same..."

"Huh?"

"He was so nervous back when we first knew him...I thought that was just because of Ian, but...he's still sorta...anxious now."

"You're acting anxious too, you know. Hell, I feel nervous about it... it's awkward and... weird... just meeting each other out of the blue... we thought he was dead. Maybe he assumed we were too."

"Maybe..." Dyme pursed his lip, fiddling with his hands. "...should we go?"

"... yeah... Let's go to bed... it's been an... odd night."

"I'll say."

* * *

><p>Several years had passed since Dyme and Arlene had been reunited with Daniel. Dyme was in his mid-forties now and doing his best to make Arlene as happy as he could - her heart would be on its last legs now, despite miraculously surviving the years. Dyme sighed as he stroked a very elderly Angus, nose in a thick book.<p>

Arlene was at the piano, playing gently and unintrusively in the background. Since that first music festival he had re-introduced her to, she had asked him for some instruction on how to play, and then had taken it on from there. She wasn't particularly astounding, but could still play beautifully if her mind was in the right place. It soothed her, and these days when her chest clenched and ached at the slightest disruption, it was a God-send. But it couldn't be long now, she knew that.

Dyme eventually closed his book, gently prying Angus off of him and walking in quietly to better hear Arlene play. He made sure she'd notice him: he didn't want to risk scaring her. She smiled at him tiredly, then announced, "this can be played as a duet, you know."

Dyme smiled just as tiredly back as he slid in next to her on the piano bench. "From the top?"

She poised her fingers and grinned. "Heh, a-one, two three..."

Dyme smiled and began to play his part, the deeper background - not the main focus, but simply essential. Seated by the higher pitched keys, she played the twinkling melody atop, only slipping one or two notes but otherwise much more confident and delicate than when they had last played together. She chuckled partway through and smiled at him.

"You're doing wonderfully," Dyme told her, smiling back. "A big improvement."

"Let's hope I can play one perfect piece before I go..."

Dyme's hands slipped. A clunk on the keys, ruining the piece they'd created as tears welled up in his eyes. She slipped her hand over his.

"I'm sorry," he whispered shakily.

"... be brave. I've accepted it. But I'll try not to go until I know you're... you're okay on your own."

"I don't know what I'll do without you."

"You have Daniel." She squeezed his hand, then smiled. "You know he likes you."

Dyme squeezed it back, smiling weakly. "Yeah."

"His two girls like you too." She chuckled. "You know when he asked if we could babysit while he was on his way to that business meeting? While you were making dinner, they were telling me 'Daddy doesn't stop talking about DyDy'."

"Aw," Dyme smiled warmly. "They really said that?"

"Oh yes," Arlene chuckled but then winced, holding her chest. As the pain subsided and she relaxed again, she leant on his shoulder and nuzzled into his neck. "Think I've done enough for today. Can you help me to bed?"

"Of course," Dyme murmured, getting to his feet and lifting Arlene bridal-style, carrying her to her bed. She was a lot lighter than she ever had been, body frail and delicate. It wore her out walking too much, and even talking for too long made her breathless. Still she managed to hug him tightly and smile at him before curling up to sleep.

Dyme had a tense feeling in his gut - a worry that Arlene would not awaken this time. As such, he didn't want to leave her, but he didn't want to disturb her sleep... God, seeing her sleep was torture; never knowing now when he'd see those eyes open again...

* * *

><p>Some hours later, she did awaken, but she was in discomfort. Heaving a great sigh, she cried silently, tears glittering down her cheeks. It was almost time. Frightened and yet calm, her hand found his. "Dyme..." He awoke instantly, squeezing her hand instinctively. When he saw her face, tears trickled down his own face as he hugged her close.<p>

"... I-i'm... I'm so scared..." Her voice was nothing more than a breath, but it was racked with mourning.

"I-it's going to be okay," Dyme whispered, stroking her hair. "There's g-going to be Ricky right there, waiting."

"I don't want to go, Dyme... I'm not ready... there's... th-there's so much I have to do... I can't..."

Dyme choked back a sob, rubbing her back. "P-please; b-be strong...for me..."

She quivered and broke out a proper sob now, but did as he asked and managed to swallow another, feeling a lump in her throat that she knew might stay there now until her last breath. "The piano... p-please... just one more time...? Please Dyme...?"

"Yes." He picked her up - everything feeling so much heavier and yet at the same time so scared by how light she was now - carrying her gently to the piano as he began to play a beautiful, heartbreaking tune. Leaning heavily against him, breathing harder, she managed to join in for a short time... until her fingers started becoming sluggish on the keys. Her vision started to fade and she coughed once or twice, sobbing each time.

Dyme was weeping silently, wanting to be strong for Arlene. "You're playing beautifully," he whispered.

She just nodded numbly. She barely heard what he said. Fear and pain oozed through her, but she gulped back another sob and feeling her inner light fading fast, she turned to kiss his neck. Her arms felt like dead weights. They slid off the keys. Some of her muscles twinged and flinched as her heart began to give out. "Dyme..." With all her might, she reached under the piano lid... paused... trembling as another hand went to her chest. She rasped out a choked sob. In a fluid, sloppy, lifeless movement, she withdraw a scrap of paper from under the lid, sliding it in her shaking fist into his lap, then cried weakly into his shoulder.

Dyme knew what it was in a heartbeat and sobbed, hugging Arlene tightly to him. "I love you, Arlene," he whispered.

She was silent and still. Tears, still warm on her flushed cheeks, twinkled as they gathered on her jaw, and dripped onto the paper in his lap. No sound, nor breath, nor reply acknowledged him. Just the heaviness of silence. Dyme began to cry in earnest now, hugging her body tightly to him as he rocked slightly.

"Arlene... Arlene... oh God, please... w-wake up..."

Gone.

* * *

><p>Dyme continued to sob until he felt incredibly sick, breath shaky. He gently carried Arlene to the bed, hugging her tightly as he sat.<p>

Her body was cooling. Her tear-stains were drying. Limp in his arms, she seemed much smaller, much more fragile. Her lifeless hand was still holding the slip of paper she had forced upon him. Dyme carefully took it, turning it over to read the words.

The handwriting was neat, but written with an obviously trembling hand. It was blotted in places, but still the words were clear:

"_If you're reading this, then I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the hatred and strife I caused you when we first met. I'm sorry for the shouting and the put downs. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I hated you. I'm sorry I was never quite strong enough to do all the fun things we learnt to do. I'm sorry I couldn't save Jack. I'm sorry you've been stuck with me. I'm sorry I'm gone. I'm sorry in my last days, I've been unable to tell you all this, because my stupid body wouldn't let me. I'm sorry. So Sorry._

_I want to be with Ricky in death, just as he was with me in life. You'll find the contact for a Mister Francis George in my phone book. Tell him I've arrived. He'll take care of everything from there. You'll find my bank account details and all the paperwork in the drawer in my room. It's yours. All of it. Live your dreams. I'm no longer there to hold you back. My will is under my pillow. It's yours. Everything I held dear. I hope you already knew that in your heart, but the proof is in the paper, I guess._

_Lastly, thank you. Thank you for caring. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for giving me a reason to not just finish the inevitable sooner. You kept me holding on. No matter what, YOU were the man who made life beautiful. YOU were my soulmate, romantically or otherwise. It doesn't matter. It was you. It was you, and always you. Sorry, and thank you._

_ I love you."_

Dyme had a hand pressed over his mouth, crying hard by the time he was finished reading. He felt horrible for letting her think she'd held him back, letting her think she was ever a bother. Head bowed, he cried out the last tears that would come and walked to her bed, gently extracting the will. Taking a shaking breath in, he found and leafed through her phone book, memorizing the number for Francis George and dialing it on their phone.

There was a long dial tone, then finally someone picked up. "_Good evening, Francis George here, can I ask what the nature of your call is?_"

"My name is Dyme Braxton. I'm calling about Arlene Summers. She's arrived."

There was a pause from the other end of the line, then a tired sigh. "_... I see. Thank you for telling me. I'll get to work right away. My sincerest sympathies, sir._" Another pause, a few reluctant scribbles from pencil to paper on his end, then a click of his tongue. "_... do you have anyone you can call, sir? I... am aware you lived alone with the young Miss._"

"I do." Dyme thought back to Daniel - he'd obviously need to let him know.

"_Then I suggest you call them. I will have a private ambulance come and collect Miss Summers and ready her for a funeral. They'll take extra special care of her. I assure you. Call someone to either come over and stay with you, or ask if you can stay there; though I advise against you driving after such an event. Is that understood, Sir?"_

"I understand. I can't thank you enough for this."

_"You're welcome. I swear, we'll take good care of her. We'll keep you informed... she thought very highly of you, you know."_

"Yeah." The lump in Demyx's throat seemed to grow as he thought of her note.

_"Good. She always said she needed you to know that._" A sigh. "_I should start making calls to get her seen to quickly. Stay safe, Sir. God bless."_

"Thank you," Dyme murmured once more before hanging up, feeling choked up again.

* * *

><p>AN: ... I still tear up at this part. GOD DAMMIT DEMPS.


End file.
